Much Ado About Hogwarts
by Parlanchina
Summary: If there was one thing Remus Lupin hated, it was attention... which was rather a pity, given his choice of friends... AU. COMPLETE!
1. Invitation

**4****th**** of September, 1976**

From the Office of the Minister For Magic, in association with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

You are cordially invited to attend the 119th annual Autumn Charity Gala at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on the 30th of November. This year's performance will be the muggle play 'Much Ado About Nothing' by one William Shakespeare and will, as usual, be performed by the school's returning seventh years. As I am sure you are aware, the proceeds from this event go towards a charity of the students' choice – this year they have chosen to sponsor the construction of a proposed Specialist Children's Wing at St Mungo's Hospital, a more than worthy cause, I'm sure you'll agree.

There will be a formal dinner preceding the performance, beginning at 6pm sharp; the play will commence at 8pm in the historic castle grounds. Formal dress is, naturally, required.

We hope to see you on the evening of the 30th in support of these bright and talented young people, and their chosen charity.

Yours Expectantly

Sir. Everard Appleby,

Honorable Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Secondary Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.


	2. Overtures

**Author's Note: Ok, so I got bored half way through the sequel to Dreams and False Alarms - it _is_ being written, but it's going to take a bit longer, and this one was battering at the sides of my skull, begging to be let out. I can only apologise. Particularly for Sirius. Sheesh.**

**17****th**** September 1975**

If there was one thing Remus Lupin hated, it was attention. Even though he was one of the smartest in his class he very seldom put himself forward – a fact that he knew grated on his teachers somewhat. If there was a party, he'd be found in the library; a fight, he'd back down; a speech, he'd write it and let his friends give it. And therein lay the problem, really. His choice of friends.

Before he'd come to Hogwarts he'd never imagined that someone like him could have friends, and yet there they were, keeping him company, intruding on his thoughts and being the complete antithesis of 'unobtrusive'. There was Lily Evans, bright, brilliant, pretty and the terror of rule breakers everywhere; her best friend Alice Roberts was much quieter, and warm and bubbly to boot, but her laugh could be heard three rooms away, and her flawless good nature regularly turned heads. Her boyfriend, Frank Longbottom, was the captain of the Ravenclaw chess team, and had grown used to being stopped in the corridor and challenged to public matches, something he wouldn't have done even a year previously.

And then there were his best friends. James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew: the Hogwarts equivalent of the mafia (if the mafia played pranks instead of murdering people). Sirius and James were both the epitome of the perfect Gryffindor: smart, funny, bold, handsome and cheeky. And, Remus would be the first to point out, complete prats, most of the time. Even Peter, who was almost as unassuming as him, was taking solos in the school choir these days, and chatting up his fellow choristers. They were both on the Quidditch team and rather fancied themselves as house heroes – and a hit with the ladies, which tended to get them in more trouble that Remus was comfortable with… he smiled grimly. At least in James's case it was only one girl… the one girl who swore she would never even look twice at him… the one girl that most of the upper two years of Hogwarts, including himself, rather fancied. But Lily was James's, had been from almost the moment he saw her, and that was that. No matter what she had to say about it.

Sirius, on the other hand, had been steadily making his way through the female population of Hogwarts since halfway through his fourth year, and was now considering seducing the male population. These days, even walking the corridors with him meant witnessing either the wrath of a previous assignation, the canoodling that accompanied a current arrangement and the searing glances that signalled the organisation of a new understanding. He couldn't count the number of times he'd seen Sirius walk away with a slap-stung face or a good hexing with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. As far as he could tell, the dog felt that it was more than worth it… if he didn't know him better he'd suggest he even enjoyed the let-down.

Beside them, Remus looked uncultured, plain, charmless and clumsy, and he knew it… most of the girls in his immediate social circle saw him as a nice boy, and nothing more, and with this he was fairly content. Having witnessed first hand the continuous rejection of James, the serial infatuation of Sirius and the awkward attempts at flirtation of Peter, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to be anything other than 'a really good friend'. He rather felt it wasn't worth the grief.

It was one of these rejections that had landed them in the detention they were currently slogging through. Grudgingly, Remus conceded to himself that this wasn't technically James's fault – he had been quite subtle (for him), and had backed off much more quickly than usual, almost as soon as she reached for her wand, _and_ he'd tried to apologise. It was just unlucky that the hex Lily had aimed at him had missed, bounced off the wall and hit Sirius, who had suddenly begun tap-dancing, careened into Remus and Peter and knocked the three of them straight into Minerva McGonagall, much to the amusement of everyone else in the corridor. Their laughter was still ringing in his violet tinged ears.

Since she'd been carrying a cauldron full of potion as a favour to Professor Slughorn, and that cauldron had upended over the four of them and turned their robes, hair and skin a particularly shocking shade of violet, she had immediately put all four Marauders into detention (the logic being, if James was near a catastrophe he was usually responsible for it) and (rather unfairly, in his opinion) asked Lily to give her a hand clearing up the mess. As much as he liked Lily, it had smacked of favouritism, and four hours of scrubbing the mud-soaked hospital wing later he was feeling particularly irritated with his red-headed friend. And with his current companions. Who were singing. Loudly.

As they launched into what could have been the eighth chorus of 'A Wizard's Staff has a Knob on the End,' Remus cracked.

"That's _it_," he growled, gesticulating angrily with his sponge, "if I have to hear one more verse I'm going to use this in a thoroughly unusual colonoscopy."

Sirius paused – it was unusual for Remus to get angry, and the Marauders had long since learned that there were times when he shouldn't be pressed.

"Which one of us?"

"What?"

"Which one of us will be helping further your unorthodox foray into medical science?"

"I haven't decided yet," Remus growled. "Are you volunteering?"

Apparently, this was one of those times.

"Um, no," said Sirius, getting back to cleaning.

They worked in blissful silence for a few minutes, getting dirt out of cracks where it had remained undisturbed for decades. If they could just keep going like this, in peace and quiet, then his friends _might_ survive the night.

James sighed a heavy and lovelorn sigh.

Or not.

_Here it comes,_ Remus thought, glumly.

"Wasn't Lily breathtaking this afternoon?" he asked the world at large. His three friends ignored him. "I just can't get enough of that glint of mischief in her eye…"

"I think it's a glint of wrath, mate," said Peter, conversationally.

"Oh no, I think she's really beginning to come around!" said James, enthusiastically. "Why, just the other day I had a five minute conversation with her and she didn't try to hex me once!"

"I think I preferred the singing," Remus grumbled, attacking a particularly stubborn bit of mud.

"Yeah," said Sirius, "but that was largely because Flitwick was sat right next to you, and she couldn't very well hex you in front of him, could she? It would ruin her prefect-perfect reputation." He scowled. Generally speaking, he and Lily really didn't get on, and pretty as she was he failed to see what James saw in her. It _had_ been a neat little charm though, and he'd never admit it – except maybe to Remus – but he was a bit impressed.

"Apparently hexing big-head over there in front of McGonagall didn't do much damage to it," grumbled Peter. "Next time we should tell her to get on with it and put him out of his misery."

Sirius snorted as Peter yelped; James had thrown the sponge at him.

"Oy! I'm all wet now!"

"Well don't be a git then."

Remus ducked as the sponged sailed back over his head and hit James square in the face.

"I'm just saying, if _you_ hadn't called her 'cupcake' _we_ wouldn't be cleaning the floor. Again."

James wiped his face.

"What's wrong with 'cupcake'?"

"What's _not_ wrong with 'cupcake'?" Remus asked, irritated.

"Sirius uses it all the time."

"Sirius would," he muttered. "Ow!"

"Oh, sorry Moony, my hand slipped," said Sirius, with a grin. "But Pete has a point James, at the rate you're going we'll be causing permanent erosion in here."

"She's just so _perfect_ thought – can't you just see it?" he asked, dreamily. "Me, Lily, a couple of kids? She'd be the best Mum _ever_…"

Remus rubbed his face. _Sometimes_, he thought, _a lack of friends would be absolute heaven_.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," muttered Sirius, nudging him in the ribs. "At least he wasn't _drooling_ when we were singing."

Remus gave him the kind of Look that sent small forest creatures scuttling into hiding.

"Erm, Pete, do you fancy helping me get that sponge off of Moony? He's beginning to worry me…"

0o0o0o0o0

It was past midnight when the four of them slouched back into the Gryffindor Common Room, muscles protesting at every move and eyes stinging from the soap. Remus made a beeline for 'his' armchair by the fire, but Sirius got there first.

"Out," he growled.

"Make me- no, wait," he added, taking a look at his friend's expression. "Chair's yours."

Remus flung himself into the vacated armchair and threw an arm over his eyes; it wasn't far enough into the term for him to be too worried about taking a lie-in on a Saturday… perhaps he would just fall asleep here. The chair was so warm, and so comfy and so familiar…

Distantly, he was aware that Sirius had drifted over to flirt with his current squeeze, and from the sound of it, Peter was already fast asleep. James was quiet, hopefully reflecting on how patient and long-suffering his friends were.

"Moony?"

Remus grunted. Perhaps this would be an apology.

"What _is_ wrong with 'cupcake'?"

"Ja-ames," he groaned. "Give it up."

"But I can't ask Sirius, because he uses it all the time, and Peter's asleep. Come on, Remus, I'm beginning to wear her down, and if I can just get what I'm saying to her right, she might warm up a bit more."

Remus cracked an eye; James was looking at him earnestly. He sighed. That was the trouble with James: he might be a prat some of the time, and gush about Lily for the rest of it, but there was a kind of innocent loyalty in him at times that made up for it. If someone was in trouble, even if he couldn't stand them, he'd be right there beside them, wand drawn and ready for a fight. He'd proved it last year, when Sirius's bizarre sense of humour and a dangerous fit of pique had led to a situation Remus would rather forget.

"It's just rude, mate. It's like… when Slughorn calls us his 'little treasures'. I think Lily thought you were being patronising."

"But I'd never look down on her – she must know that," James said, unhappily. "I think she's wonderful."

"Yes, but most of the time you act like you're the best thing since roast beef…"

"Not around _her_ –"

"No, but around everyone else," he looked at his friend. "Maybe she thinks you're immature – you could try treating people a bit better… she might be less inclined to hex you, at least."

"I'm not _that_ mean to people am I?" he asked, with a slight air of horror.

How did you answer a plea like that? Remus balked.

"Well, no, but… you could lay off the pranking for a bit –" he held up his hands defensively as shock spread across James's features. "- at least the pranks that involve injury or total humiliation."

"Maybe…" he conceded, grudgingly.

Remus allowed himself to relax into his chair again, enjoying the crackle of the fire in the grate.

"I've often wondered why you haven't got yourself a girl, Moony…" James was saying, quietly. "I mean, you're quiet, responsible, handsome and smart… I mean, even Peter has had more girlfriends than you."

Remus's eyebrows, which had risen slightly with every apparent accolade, had retreated behind his fringe.

A thought appeared to have occurred to James.

"You're not _gay_ are you?" he asked, without tact. Remus was too taken aback to form an answer, and just stared at him for a moment, open mouthed. "Because it's fine if you are – I mean, none of us would care, you'd still be our Moony –"

"Well, I'm flattered Prongs, but I hate to break it to you that I am, in fact, straight…"

"Oh. It's just, you never even flirt with girls."

"Has it occurred to you that I'm not very good at flirting? Or just haven't found someone I want to flirt with?" _Or someone that isn't one of Padfoot's cast-offs?_ The man really didn't leave much room for anyone else.

"Oh," said James, again. "What about Rebecca Storm, from Hufflepuff? You were spending a lot of time with her last term in those 'study sessions' of yours – and she's pretty," he added, in a manner that suggested that she would in no way measure up to his Lily.

"Well, she's nice and all, but she's a bit too… girly." Remus said, wrinkling up his nose. "She'd get really excited about kittens, would pout if she ran out of pink ink and smelled of pot-pourri. She's also dating Finn from seventh year," he added, almost as an after thought.

"Not your type then…"

"No, not really."

"What _is_ your type?" asked Peter, groggily.

"I thought you were asleep," said James, amusement in his voice.

"Well I was, but you buggers woke me up and your conversation sounded interesting," he replied, eyes still shut.

"You were eavesdropping," said Remus, flatly.

A smile crossed Peter's face.

"And? Come on Remus, what's your type?"

"I don't really have one."

"Don't really have one what?" asked Sirius, draping himself over one end of the sofa.

"Shouldn't you be romancing Trixie, or whatever her name is?"

"Nah, all the totty's gone to bed."

Remus glanced around the room: sure enough, the common room was empty except for them.

"Don't change the subject," admonished James. "We were trying to find out what Moony's 'type' is," he explained.

"I told you, I don't have one."

"Everyone's got one," Sirius insisted. "There's blondes, brunettes –"

"Red-heads," added James, helpfully.

"Kind ones, smart ones, ditzy ones –" put in Peter

"Hot ones, dangerous ones, ones that are way too skinny, fat ones – I like those, you get more to grip and they're needy, they always do more –"

"You're a real creep, you know that Padfoot?" asked Wormtail lazily.

"I prefer to call myself a connoisseur."

Even James rolled his eyes.

"Look, I'm just more interested in being friends with girls, alright?"

"See, didn't I say he was gay?" said Sirius, triumphantly. Remus threw a cushion at him.

"I'm _not_ gay, I just don't feel the need to sleep with every girl in a seven mile radius, or constantly worship the first pretty girl to walk through the compartment door in first year –"

"Harsh," interrupted Peter.

"- nor categorise them. I find it demeaning."

"Oooh, hark at him. Have you ever even flirted with a girl?" asked Sirius.

"No-"

"Well then."

"To be fair Padfoot, he hasn't flirted with a guy either," said James, feeling this was getting a bit out of hand.

"There, you see?"

Sirius made a derogatory noise.

"Do you lot mind?" demanded an angry voice from the vicinity of the girls' dormitories. "Only some of us would like to get some sleep without having to think about the contents of Sirius's perverted little mind."

"Sorry Lily," said James, standing immediately and hustling his friends up the dormitory stairs. "Nobody needs to think about what goes on in his head."

"Oy," said Sirius, as he was pushed passed a be-robed Lily. "Night Lily, nice ti-"

James cuffed him around the head.

"I was just _saying_-"

"Remus?" she asked, as they passed her. "I'm sorry about earlier – I didn't mean for you to get in trouble – or Peter, really…"

He sighed. It was impossible to be angry with Lily for long.

"It's alright. Just do me a favour? Next time check who we're going to crash into before you hex us."

She smiled, and nodded. The part of him that didn't want to care about James's feelings made him grin back, and he practically ran up the rest of the steps. His good mood evaporated when he got through the door however: Sirius was sprawled naked on his bed and both Peter and James were begging him to cover up.

"But I'm always naked under my clothes," he protested, pouting.

"Now there's something I never needed to hear," said Remus, grimacing. "Come on Sirius, or you'll give Peter nightmares."

Peter threw a pillow at him.

When they'd got into bed and (finally) persuaded Sirius to put his boxers back on, Peter piped up.

"Remus…"

"What?"

"If you don't have a type, then describe your perfect woman."

"_What_?"

"Yeah, Moony, what do you look for in a girl?"

"You've got to have preferences – I mean, you seem to know what you don't want."

"I like a bit of everything in a strumpet," said Sirius.

"Shut up Padfoot, you'd screw a table if it wasn't nailed down."

"Come on Remus."

"No."

"Oh, go on. I'll go first if you want," said James.

"No need," Sirius scoffed. "Red hair, green eyes, a fiery temper, a quick wit, great ti- ow!"

"No."

"What about you, Wormtail?" James asked.

"I dunno… I suppose I like someone I can have a good laugh with… she's got to be kind… some common ground would help, like music – or being good with potions…" he paused, apparently thinking. "I quite like girls with dark hair… not black, but sort of chocolate-y, with freckles and really clear, blue eyes. Long legs would be a plus."

"That sounds nice," said Remus, smiling.

Sirius sniggered.

"You do know you just described Claire Pollard from Hufflepuff?"

"Well, she _is_ cute," said Peter, defensively, as the others chuckled.

"Come on Moony, it's your turn," said James.

"I wasn't joining in."

"You were too!"

"Look, I've just never thought about it, alright?"

"Well, think about it then."

"Ga-ay!"

"Fuck _off_ Sirius."

"If you tell us we'll let you get some sleep."

"Oh, _fine_."

There was silence for a few minutes as Remus stared at the hangings above his bed.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking."

"Think out loud then, or I'm going to drop off."

"Alright… a good sense of humour would be nice."

"Bo-ring!"

"Shut _up_ Sirius!" said Peter. "Go on."

"Er… well I suppose I'd like her to be pretty smart… practical too –"

"Yeah, that would come in _handy_¸" Sirius leered.

There was the sound of a brief scuffle.

"It's alright Moony," said James, "I've sat on him, go on."

"Mmm-mmm!"

"Erm… I'd like her smile a lot… she'd have a really warm smile," said Remus, beginning to warm to the subject. "And – like Peter said – something in common we could talk about. I've never really thought about looks… I don't really mind, as long as she's nice."

"Mmfounds ffa bitff like Aliff."

"Shut up Padfoot. I like the sound of her," said Peter.

"Me too…" said James. "Are you a 'legs' man too?"

"What?"

"You know… Peter's a 'legs' man, I'm a 'tits' man… Sirius is an 'everything' man."

"Oh… I… breasts, maybe?" He was glad it was dark, he could feel himself blushing. "I suppose a good pair of breasts would be nice." He could hear Sirius's muffled sniggering through his pillow; Remus ignored him. "Or a nice, firm bottom…"

James gave a yelp as Sirius managed to dislodge him.

"So you're a 'tits and arse' man then," he said. "Alright, alright, I'm shutting up. I only wanted to clarify," he continued huffily. "And she does sound nice Moony. After a while you get sick of girls who can't put a sentence together."

There was a speculative silence as the four of them listened to the rain buffeting the dormitory window.

"Can I go to sleep now?"

"Yeah," Peter yawned. "Consider us informed."

"Thank you," said Remus, and rolled onto his side. It was a real pity that the impossible girl he's just described was already taken… there couldn't be _three_ girls like Lily and Alice, and certainly not in Hogwarts. He'd already know them. Really, there was no point thinking about her… seeing as she didn't exist.

Even so, it was a long time before he got to sleep.

0o0o0o0

It was very dark by the time the carriage pulled up at the entrance to the Castle. Her guide had told her that usually she'd be required to walk from the gates, but the bad weather had earned her a briefer journey. She was very grateful for this. As much as she liked travelling, the trek from the pretty little chalet in the French Alps had taken it out of her, and tomorrow she would be joining a new school… Her mother's sudden decision to fire her tutors and send her to Scotland of all places worried her. Although she barely saw the woman she was aware that no expense had been spared in her upbringing, which had included excellent tuition in magic and a well stocked library, and was grateful for what little time her mother could spend with her, when her husband was away.

She looked up at the Castle and sighed. Her guide, who seemed to be an odious, bad-tempered man, grunted as he removed her trunk from the back of the carriage. She wasn't particularly good around people, the chalet being rather out of the way from roads and villages… she had to hand it to her mother, she knew how to hide a potential scandal when she had to.

The greasy little man escorted her through a courtyard and up to a gargoyle.

"Chocolate frogs," he said gruffly, and to her surprise the gargoyle began retreating up a spiral staircase. At the top, her guide knocked on the door. Surely there wouldn't be anyone left awake…

"Come in," said a voice; it was a calm voice, sweetened with what sounded like the edge of a smile. She liked the owner of the voice immediately.

The office behind the door was filled with fascinating orbs and instruments; there were dozens of bookshelves lining the walls, portraits on almost every surface and – unless she was very much mistaken – a phoenix watching her patiently from a perch in the corner. In the centre of the room was a large carved oak desk covered in papers, quills, and (for some reason) sweets.

Behind the magnificent desk sat a kindly looking elderly man: his bright blue eyes took her in as she stared around her office and he smiled in amusement. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles and an extremely crooked nose.

"Ah, you must be Miss Wren. Do sit down – would you like a pear-drop?"

"Er – no thank you Sir."

_What a strange man this headmaster is_, she thought, her earlier trepidation dissipating. She felt unusually calm in his presence, as if she'd given her brain a hot bath.

"That will be all, thank you Argus," Dumbledore said to her laconic guide. "Now Miss Wren, I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"Yes sir, if a little long."

"Ah yes, you must be tired. Fortunately there are only a few formalities to attend to before I can let you retire. I gather from your tutor's correspondence that you are at an appropriate level for sixth year study."

"I suppose so, Sir, but I've never attended school before… I'm not sure what level that would be."

"Yes, the letters mentioned that too…" he peered at her over his half moon spectacles. "I suppose it would be too much to ask what your real name is?"

She smiled wearily.

"As far as I'm aware Sir, Eleanor Wren _is_ my real name. I've never been called anything else – they're on my Birth Certificate – my mother chose both names for me… I rather like them."

"As I understood. Well then, Miss Wren you will remain… firstly, let me extend my warmest welcome to our school. With any luck you won't be seeing too much of me, if your behaviour is as exemplary as your tutors suggest."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. While she'd never been particularly unruly, she'd always had something of a knack for mischief. Just how desperate _were_ they to get her into Hogwarts?

The twinkle behind Dumbledore's half moon spectacles suggested that he had a very shrewd idea of what she was thinking.

"While you are here you will be sorted into one of our four houses – the members of which will be like your family. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and the members of each house exemplify a selection of very fine qualities. They are named after our four founders, you know. Gryffindors tend to be brave, chivalrous and noble; Ravenclaws are often very intelligent and logical; Hufflepuffs are loyal, caring and creative; Slytherins tend to be cunning and shrewd."

He summoned what looked to be a battered old wizard's hat with his wand and let it drop gently onto her head.

Startled, she went to push it off, but a voice in her ear distracted her.

"Give me a moment, give me a moment," the voice said.

_Er… excuse me Sir, but are you the hat?_ She thought, a little confused.

"I am indeed… well now, I don't often come across someone as polite as you… let me see… you are an interesting mix… kind and caring enough for Hufflepuff, and you'd do very well in Ravenclaw."

_Th-thank you, Sir._

"You're welcome, my dear… perhaps your other qualities might suit another house though… yes, I think you'll make an excellent GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat had shouted the last word so loudly that Eleanor had very nearly jumped off her seat.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, sending the hat back across the room with a flick of his wand. "Professor McGonagall will escort you to Gryffindor Tower and present you with your timetable. She will be your head of house."

Eleanor hadn't even heard her come in… how could they have known what house she'd be in? Perhaps the other heads of houses were waiting outside too, just in case.

"Thank you Sir," she said, before following her new head of house out of the office. Dumbledore stared after her, thoughtfully.

As they walked through the slumbering castle, Eleanor sneaked a glance at her new Professor. She was a severe looking woman in her mid-fifties, with dark, greying hair and a sharp profile; she was wearing a prim set of robes in green tartan, and as she halted in front of a large, gold-framed portrait, she afforded Eleanor a brief smile.

"I hope you'll be happy here, Miss Wren. If you have any problems you may come to my office – I don't know what your previous schooling has entailed, but we expect you to work hard at Hogwarts."

"Yes Miss," Eleanor replied; hard work was something that held no terror for her.

"Your dormitory is the second door at the top of the left hand staircase – there is a spare bed for you beside the window. Your room mates are named Lily Evans and Alice Roberts, both very nice girls. Here is your timetable – the password is 'Cassiopeia'."

Eleanor jumped back in surprise as the portrait in front of her swung open to reveal a dark room full of the shapes of tables and armchairs.

"A word of advice, Miss Wren: avoid, if you can, the attentions of Sirius Black and James Potter. They consider themselves to be the resident jesters, and tend to be a little… exuberant."

"Thank you, Miss – good night."

She climbed through the portrait hole and by some miracle made it across the furniture strewn room without falling over anything. The dormitory, such as she could make out, was small and snug, and the sounds of her sleeping room-mates was oddly comforting after so long a day. Finding that her pyjamas had been laid out for her, she climbed into bed and made herself comfortable.

_It might not be home_, she thought, as she listened to the wind howling around the tower, _but it would certainly do, for the time being._


	3. Dramatis Personae

Warm, comfortable and surfacing from a dreamless sleep, Eleanor became aware of two hushed voices, hovering somewhere above her bed.

"They must have moved the bed in last night…"

"What, after we went to sleep? You'd have thought we'd wake up…"

Perhaps she should have closed the curtains of her four poster bed before sleeping the previous evening – it would at least have given her the opportunity to assess her new roommates – but then, she had been so tired after her journey she hadn't even thought about it.

"Who do you think she is?"

"I'm assuming a transfer student…"

"She must have been sorted already… she's really pretty, isn't she, Lily?"

Presumably 'Lily' had smiled, as there was a pause.

"Yes… come on, let's back off, we don't want to frighten her by looming over her when she wakes up – that would be a great way to start your first day at a new school."

Two pairs of soft footsteps retreated, and there was the sound of a shower starting up in the next room. Eleanor felt that it would be politic to wake up at this point, and made a show of yawning and stretching.

"Oh, hello," said the owner of the second voice. "We didn't wake you, did we?"

"No, erm… hi." _Great way to make friends, Ellie,_ a voice in the back of her mind teased.

"I'm Alice, by the way, and Lily's in the shower, she'll be out in a minute – welcome to Hogwarts!"

"Eleanor – thanks!" she smiled.

Alice appeared to be bursting with questions, but she held back as Eleanor rummaged through her new wardrobe for some fresh clothes, brushed some of the tangles out of her hair and took in her new surroundings. The room was curved along one side and decorated in rich reds and golds. There was a brazier in the middle of the room and three four-poster beds were against the curve of the wall. She was still admiring the general splendour when the noise of running water stopped and Lily walked back into the room followed by a billow of steam, her hair wrapped in a towel.

"Oh, hello – " she began, but Alice got their first.

"Eleanor, this is Lily, my best friend, and Lily, this is Eleanor…"

"Hi," said Eleanor, more confidently this time; Professor McGonagall had been right, these girls _were_ lovely.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," said Lily with a friendly smile. "I imagine you got in rather late last night…"

"Yes, well after midnight – you were both sleeping, I didn't want to wake you…"

"Oh, don't worry, if we can sleep through next door shrieking all night, you won't wake us."

"Fifth years," said Alice on her questioning glance. "I'm sure we weren't that loud last year."

"Well there are more of them –" Lily disappeared behind her four-poster briefly, before returning and brushing her long, dark red hair. "So where did you transfer from, Eleanor? Beauxbatons?"

"Actually, I was home-tutored," she said, playing with the hem of her blouse. "In the Alps…"

"Really? Wow! My Dad took us skiing up there two Christmases ago, it's beautiful!" cried Alice, beaming.

"Yeah," grinned Eleanor. "I like it best in summer though – there's a sheltered lake not far from the chalet where I like to swim."

"Sounds lovely," said Lily smiling.

"Maybe," said Eleanor, surprising herself, "maybe next summer you two could come out and visit…"

She'd never really had chance to make friends before, but the idea of sharing her private little alpine word with these two lovely young ladies seemed to fill her with happiness.

"That's very kind of you," smiled Lily.

"I just might hold you to that, you know," added Alice, grinning. "Come on Lily, or there won't be any breakfast left… it's Hogsmeade weekend, you see, we all go down to the village after breakfast."

"I'd find a warm jumper though," said Lily, reaching into her wardrobe, "might get chilly – although I suppose you're used to it being a bit colder."

"Colder, but not this wet," said Eleanor, glancing out of the window. Last night's rain had stopped, leaving behind a gloss of shimmering raindrops on the wooded grounds.

Alice chuckled.

"Take your purse too, if you get pocket money – there's a sweetshop and a café and loads of stuff to do – "

Eleanor rose and gathered her things, suddenly self conscious; Lily and Alice were one thing, but a whole village full of students was a bit daunting. Noticing this, Alice patted her arm.

"You'll be fine," she said. "You look great, most people here are pretty friendly and the sun's out. What could go wrong?" And with that, she bounded out of the dormitory and down the stairs, leaving a stunned Eleanor and a laughing Lily behind her.

"Well, just look at Little Miss Optimism go! She seems to have got even more bubbly since she started seeing Frank – you'll meet him downstairs." She paused, "a word of caution though, Sirius Black and James Potter, try to avoid them…"

"Professor McGonagall mentioned them last night… said they thought of themselves as jesters…"

"Pains in the arse would be more accurate," said Lily, firmly. "Black is a bit of a pervert, and he's made his way through the majority of the girls in school, so watch yourself, he might see you as a new challenge."

"Oh, goody."

"And Potter is an odious little toe rag who likes to play ridiculous pranks on people, without considering the consequences."

"Do you think anyone would mind if I just stayed up here?"

Lily's expression softened.

"Don't worry, if they start on you they'll have me to deal with. Besides, not all the Gryffindor boys are bad…"

0o0o0o0

Much to Remus's dismay, the headache he had been nursing the night before had not dissipated with sleep and appeared to have doubled in strength by the time Sirius had woken them all up, hideously early in the morning, by announcing that he had a _brilliant_ plan that they were all going to help him with.

Remus had flat out refused this time and, unusually, been unwilling to budge; Peter, who liked his lie-ins almost as much as Remus, had followed suit and the two of them had gratefully gone back to bed as James and Sirius snuck out of their rooms to instigate some havoc.

He was feeling a good deal better when breakfast time arrived, largely, he suspected, because he and Peter managed to get dressed, navigate the common room and make it downstairs without anything exploding, anyone slapping Sirius, or James gushing about Lily. As dearly as he loved his best friends, a morning of quiet every so often was worth its weight in gold.

He was a little worried that James and Sirius hadn't got back from wherever they'd gone, however… Peter told him not to be such a 'big Jessie' and started wolfing down some sausages, leaving him to glance up every time the doors to the Great Hall opened. He saw Alice bounce in when he was part way through his third slice of toast, and she practically ran over to the two of them, narrowly avoiding a collision with a startled Ravenclaw third-year.

"Oh sweet Merlin have I got gossip!" she grinned, as he and Peter stared up at her, open mouthed.

"What did they do?" asked Remus, in horror.

"What?" Alice seemed confused.

"Morning, beautiful," said Frank, walking over from the Ravenclaw table and planting a kiss on his girlfriend's nose. "I'd appreciate it if you refrained from flattening the younger members of our house in future though."

"Oh, sorry!" Alice turned round to wave at the girl, before turning back to Peter, Frank and Remus. "It's just, I have news!"

"Did they set fire to the Slytherin Common Room again?" asked Peter, hopefully.

"What? No! This has nothing to do with Sirius and James… where are they, by the way?" she asked, sitting down.

"No idea, we thought you'd seen the fallout of whatever brilliant idea Sirius had at five this morning," said Peter. Frank winced in sympathy.

"Oh… well hopefully it won't be something too explosive…" said Alice doubtfully. "But never mind _them_. Me and Lily woke up early this morning too and – guess what?"

"What?" the boys chorused, obedient to their excited friend.

"There was a third bed in our dormitory!"

"What, you mean there's a new girl?" asked Peter, interested.

"But it's a fortnight into term, why's she joining us now?" frowned Frank. "She'll have a bit of catching up to do."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Alice, candidly, "she said she was home tutored."

"You've met her, then?" asked Remus.

"Yes, first thing – she's really nice and a bit shy, her names Eleanor – she's really pretty too!"

Remus arched an eyebrow. The thing about Alice, and the thing that made her the most endearing, was that she never thought anyone was anything other than 'pretty' or 'nice'. It wasn't that she was stupid when it came to social dynamics, she just chose to see the best in people.

"She'll be down in a minute, I left her with Lily."

"Lily's going to be down in a minute?" asked James, coming up behind her. "Morning Frank."

"James, Sirius," Frank nodded.

"You sleeping beauties missed the best prank _ever,_" grumbled Sirius. "It was epic – songs will be written about it-"

"It wasn't that good, Padfoot," said James. "All we did was put hair colour potion in the teachers' tea urn."

"They'll never know it was us," grinned Sirius, rubbing his hands together happily.

"They always know it's us, mate, they just can't prove it," said James. "Anyway, shouldn't take effect until they head to the staffroom on Monday morning. You were saying about Lily, Alice?"

"What?" asked Alice, who had been following the verbal tennis match that was a conversation with the Marauders. "Oh, yes. She'll be down in a minute, with the new girl."

"New girl?" asked Sirius. "When did that happen?"

"Last night," said Peter. "Ooh, look, there they are…"

All of them peered to look as Lily entered the Great Hall talking to the mysterious Eleanor. Craning to see around James, Remus conceded that Alice had been right. She _was_ very pretty… shapely, in a delightfully curvy sort of way, and wearing a blouse and skirt that seemed to accentuate her curves in a wholly accidental fashion. Although she was glancing around the hall in slight trepidation, she bore herself comfortably, and kept her head high as a few hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare at her.

Her gold wavy hair was short and clung to her face and neck in a way that made his hands tingle in a truly unnerving way, and when she gave them a brief, nervous smile as she and Lily approached the table, he saw that her eyes were a beautiful, stormy blue-grey, as if they, like the enchanted ceiling above them, reflected the weather outside.

Abruptly, he realised that he'd been staring at her and quickly looked away.

"Good morning my beautiful Lilyflower –" James began, but Lily cut him off.

"Can it, Potter. Everyone, this is Eleanor, she's just starting at Hogwarts today… Eleanor, this is Remus, Peter, Frank – you know Alice already – Black and Potter."

Everyone nodded at her as they were introduced.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Peter, cheerfully.

"Thanks," Eleanor managed. There were so many people in here… and pretty much all of them were looking at her. She sat down next to Peter.

"Toast?" he asked.

"Er, thanks…"

"Welcome indeed, ma chère mademoiselle," said Sirius, suddenly appearing at her other side. "May I extend my sincerest hopes that you are happy and comfortable here." He bent slightly and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. "Should you ever require it, my assistance will be yours in an instant, I assure you."

If she hadn't been warned about him, she might have fallen for it. However…

"Ah. You'd be the notorious Sirius Black then?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"My reputation precedes me," he said, preening slightly.

"Yes," Eleanor said, with calculated calm. "I've been here for less than twelve hours and I've already been warned to stay away from you by two separate people."

Across the table from her, the boys identified as Remus and James sniggered.

"You've been spreading salacious rumours about me again, haven't you Evans?" he growled, turning to Lily, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"It wasn't just me, McGonagall warned her off you too."

"Minnie? Warn someone off me? But she _loves_ me!" Sirius clutched at his chest dramatically. "I'm stung! I am undone! Life is not worth living!"

"Oh sit down, Padfoot, you pillock, people are trying to concentrate on eating," James admonished. "Anyway, Lily's right, you are a bit of a perv."

Eleanor decided to cut in as Sirius spluttered in indignation.

"Actually, she warned me about you, too."

James stared at her open-mouthed for a few seconds.

"What for? I'm nowhere near as much of a skirt chaser as mutt-boy over there!"

"Oy!"

"I think it was more your sense of humour she was telling me to watch out for."

Beside him, Remus grinned. He rather liked her; in less than ten minutes she'd cut both of his best friends' egos down to size, befriended two of the nicest girls in the school and hadn't yet been put off by Peter's table manners… this could be an interesting year.

"Oh, that's all right then," said James, as Lily scoffed. "But what she doesn't know is that since you're new you get a two month grace period before we start pranking you – you know, so you can get used to Hogwarts first."

"How very gracious of you," said Lily, the sarcasm dripping from her words.

"They're not all bad," said Frank, conversationally as the rest of the group dissolved into the usual breakfast bickering. "Lily just refuses to see it."

"I take it that 'they' means you're from another house?" asked Eleanor, interested.

"Yep, Ravenclaw. Generally we sit over there –" he waved at another long bench behind him, "- but since today is a Hogsmeade trip I'm invading."

Eleanor smiled.

"Have you and Alice been together long," she asked.

"Since last March," he said, and gave his girlfriend's shoulders a squeeze. "And I love her to bits."

Eleanor grinned.

She took them in as the breakfast progressed and they bickered and chatted in a familiar and comfortable way. Lily was easily the most beautiful girl in the room, with her long, dark red hair tucked behind her ears and her green eyes flashing at whoever she spoke to, Eleanor could see why James couldn't keep his eyes off her – and began to suspect that that was why she hated him so much. Alice too, was pretty, with her honey coloured hair and bright blue eyes, beaming out at the world like a ray of sunshine in corduroy dungarees. Frank was the antithesis of his girlfriend, in looks at least: where she was petite and fair, he was tall and dark, his shrewd glances tempered by his warm brown eyes.

Peter, who had turned his attention back to his breakfast, was a fairly plain young man – at least compared to his friends – with dirty blonde hair and a wry grin; he was a little overweight perhaps, but he didn't look like he let it bother him. Across the table, Sirius was still bickering with Lily, his long dark hair framing his face perfectly. Eleanor wondered how long it took him every morning to get it _just right_… he was very handsome, she supposed, with his tanned skin and flamboyant airs, but that didn't mean she had to like him. Next to him, James had apparently given up trying to intercede and was instead chatting to Frank and Alice. He too was handsome, though in a less roguish way than Sirius. He looked to be the shortest of the group, with messy black hair that looked as though it had eaten the last comb it had encountered and large, round spectacles; he gave off an air of cheerful arrogance and she wondered fleetingly whether he wore them just to look 'smart'.

The last member of the group, who was keeping very quiet, was looking straight at her when she glanced at him, but quickly looked away. This boy was quite tall, slim and bookish; there were thin scars across his face and hands, which he ran tiredly through his thick brown hair. When he glanced back at her, grey eyes looked out from under his long fringe, and they smiled at one another.

"You're almost as quiet as Remus," said Peter, giving her an appraising look.

"Sorry," she apologised, "I was home tutored – I've never even _seen_ this many people in one place before…"

"Gosh, really?" he asked, astonished. "Well we'll look after you, don't worry."

Eleanor gave him a grin, which he returned.

"Isn't that right chaps?" he asked the group at large, which turned to look at him. "We'll show Eleanor around, help her settle in, right?"

The chorus of assent was a bit enthusiastic for her liking, but she smiled back at them when Remus gave her a reassuring grin.

_Well,_ she thought, _it seems you've fallen on your feet my girl._

0o0o0o0

The tour of Hogsmeade was fun, and certainly informative, though Eleanor suspected that the official version would be a lot less explicit in places… it was a toss up between what was more entertaining: listening to the anecdotes everyone had at each new place, or watching James's hopeless attempts at chatting up Lily and her subsequent rebuttals. They had spent most of their day alternating between running amok in the shops of the tiny wizarding village and popping into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer whenever it had started raining, and despite herself, Eleanor was really beginning to enjoy the camaraderie.

They were heading back down the hill from the allegedly incredibly haunted 'Shrieking Shack' and back up towards the school, when she found herself walking next to Remus. He'd been relatively quiet throughout the day, choosing to let his friends talk over him unless they were wildly inaccurate, and Eleanor was curious about him.

"I hope they're not too loud for you," he said, quietly. "They can be rather excitable…"

"It's ok, actually," she smiled, "I mean, I'm not saying this many people in one go isn't a shock to the system, but they're being really kind… even James and Sirius, who I was told to steer clear of."

Remus chuckled, and she noted that none of his earlier tiredness appeared to be with him anymore.

"I think that made their day, actually, having a reputation as widespread as that."

Eleanor snorted in an undignified manner, which made Remus laugh again.

"May I ask," he said as they followed what had quickly become an argument up the slope towards the Castle, "why are you joining us in Hogwarts now, if you've been home-tutored thus far?"

"I –" she began, and then stopped. As much as she loved her mother, she didn't want to continue the tradition of secrecy that she had established any more than she had to. "I actually don't know," she told him, quietly. "Everything was carrying on as normal, tutors coming and going, letters from my mother… and then, two weeks ago, the housekeepers announced that I was coming here."

"Your housekeepers? You don't live with your family?"

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked, pausing at the entrance to a long wooden bridge that crossed a great gorge in the grounds.

Remus nodded, wondering at how trusting his new friend was being.

"I might tell the others later, but… I was born out of wedlock – not just out of wedlock, actually, as a result of an affair. My mother is of sufficient status for this to be problematic, sufficient sense to get me safely out of the way and sufficient means to keep me and educate me in a private chalet in the French Alps." She was aware that he was staring at her. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to boast, but it's the easiest way to explain." She looked out across the grounds. "She'd come to visit me sometimes, when her husband was away… I suppose that will stop now. I can still write to her though," and she smiled again, and Remus felt his heart leap at the genuine warmth in her expression. "She always calls me her 'Jenny Wren' – that's how I sign my letters to her."

She looked back at him.

"Sorry, I realise I sound as if I've just fallen from the pages of some Regency love affair…"

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, awkwardly, "you can hardly be held responsible for that."

They walked on in silence for a while, each wondering privately about the other. After a few minutes Remus realised that perhaps her silence was embarrassment, and he endeavoured to save her further distress.

"Er – what subjects are you taking?" he asked.

"Oh: Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Herbology, Defence, Astronomy, History of Magic and Potions."

Remus made a face.

"Potions?"

"I like Potions."

"I suck at Potions," he said. "That's almost a full nine subjects… if you were here you would have dropped one…"

"Care of Magical Creatures," she said, anticipating the question. "I took that at OWL level… apparently my mother favours the British system of wizarding education. I got a smattering of all the subjects though, until I chose those eight."

"I think we'll be in a few of the same classes then," he said, smiling. "Except Herbology and Potions... I dropped _that_ as soon as I could." He gave her a wry smile.

"What are you taking instead?"

"Arithmancy and Muggle Studies; I dropped Care of Magical Creatures too."

It was Eleanor's turn to pull a face.

"Arithmancy sounds evil," she said. "All those numbers can't be good for you."

Remus chuckled.

"I like numbers, they're just another language, really."

"Unfortunately not one I speak," laughed Eleanor.

They looked at one another for a moment, happy in the knowledge that they'd made a new friend.

"You know," he said, a little awkwardly, "if it all gets too much for you, you could always take refuge in the library with me… I'm there a few nights a week, trying to avoid being dragged into one of Sirius and James's schemes." He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Does it work?" she asked, amused.

"Not always," he conceded, and she laughed.

"I might just take you up on that," she said.

"Great!" he beamed, and they started up the main stairs into the Castle.

0o0o0o0

Dinner, between the boys' antics and Peter's table manners, was an intriguing affair, and by the time they retreated back up to the Gryffindor common room, Eleanor was more than a little sleepy. Alice and Frank veered off en route for a goodnight kiss in one of the empty classrooms, to a chorus of whistles, catcalls and laughter.

"Bless them," said Lily, "they're so sweet together."

"Don't you think-" James began, but Lily cut him off.

"Give it a rest James, we've had a good day today, lets keep it that way for a few more hours," she said, before climbing through the portrait hole.

James turned back to Eleanor and Remus, who were once again bringing up the rear, and grinned manically.

"Did you hear that Moony? She called me 'James'!"

"Interesting nickname," Eleanor commented as they followed him into the common room.

"Not one I chose for myself…"

"Undoubtedly," she giggled, and he blushed.

They sat for a while, chattering together and making a dent in the vast array of sweets they'd brought back from Honeydukes, but it wasn't long before they were all yawning and stretching at every other stairs.

"Time to climb the wooden hills, I reckon," said James sleepily.

Lily, Alice and Eleanor stared at him as he wandered towards the dormitories.

"He means the stairs," said Sirius. "It's something his Dad always says. All joking aside Eleanor," he said, pausing by the twin staircases, "it really is nice to have a new face about the tower."

"Thanks Sirius. It's nice to be here." He gave her a warm grin before trailing up the stairs after his friends; when Eleanor turned around, Lily was giving her a speculative look.

"What?"

"He's never been that polite to a girl in his life…" she flashed a grin. "Perhaps we should see if Madame Pomfrey will take a look at him."

"Madame Pomfrey?" asked Eleanor, following her friend up to the dormitory.

"She's in charge of the Hospital Wing…"

"Who needs Madame Pomfrey?" asked Alice, drying her hair.

"Sirius. Eleanor appears to be having a disturbing effect on him."

"Oh?"

"I am not," said Eleanor, blushing.

"He was polite to you, he didn't try to look down your blouse _and_ you've been here for more than a day and he hasn't pinched your bottom yet. For Sirius, that's disturbing."

Alice laughed, "Oh, leave her alone, Lily. Anyway, he's not the only one acting strangely."

"How so?" asked Eleanor, glad that the conversation had been deflected.

"James was being much less persistent than usual – and you didn't tell him off as much, Lily."

"I didn't have to, did I?" said Lily, sounding a little uncomfortable.

"And you called him 'James'," said Eleanor, remembering the joy on his face when she had. "He looked over the moon about that."

"Oh Merlin, I didn't, did I?" moaned Lily from somewhere in her bed. "I'll never get rid of him now!"

Eleanor chuckled; as tired as she was she didn't want to go to sleep just yet. It had been such a good day, and she really liked her new friends…

"…maybe subconsciously you don't want him to give up," Alice was saying. Lily threw a pillow at her.

"Then my subconscious can go to hell," said Lily, flatly. "Let's face it ladies, Frank excepted the pickings are thin."

"What about Sirius?" Eleanor asked with a wicked grin. "They say that there's a fine line between love and hate, after all…"

The effect this simple question had on the room mates was greatly entertaining: Lily developed a look of utmost revulsion face and sputtered at her incoherently for a few seconds while Alice shrieked with laughter.

"Oh, that's priceless!"

"I'd rather have sex with a bubotuber!" she said, firmly. "Anyway, from the looks of things he's set his sights on you Eleanor."

Eleanor shrugged.

"He's pretty good looking, and he has the bluest eyes I've ever seen," she said, thinking of another pair of eyes entirely. "But he's a bit too full of himself. I really don't think so."

"See, I knew I liked you," Lily grinned.

"What did you think of the others?" asked Alice, curious.

"What, in terms of how cute they are?"

"Yeah," said Lily. "You already know what we think, it's your turn."

"Oh, well, I guess James is fairly handsome… but there's the same problem with Sirius."

"You mean he thinks the sun shines out of his arse? Yeah, a bit of a problem, that."

Alice snorted.

"And Peter's not bad – seems quite sweet too."

"He is," agreed Alice, "I think he's after one of the girls in choir though, so he's probably off limits."

"You seem to have got the pick of the crop, Alice," said Lily fondly, and her friend blushed.

"Remus is cute," said Eleanor, thoughtfully, remembering the shy way he'd smiled at her that morning.

"Remus is dreamy," said Alice firmly. "And the best part is that he doesn't know it. If I wasn't with Frank… well," she grinned.

Eleanor laughed.

"I'll tell him you said that," she giggled.

"Oh, you mustn't!" cried Alice, still laughing. "It's bad enough he knows that Lily fancies him –"

"That was a long time ago, Alice," said Lily, with a wry smile.

"What happened?" asked Eleanor, as a hot, twisty sort of sensation settled in her stomach.

"Well, he's always been a bit shy around girls – except us, but still – so I decided that I wasn't going to get anywhere without taking matters into my own hands…"

"This was last year," put in Alice, helpfully.

"… and I was a bit sick of him asking me out on Potter's behalf, so I… asked him instead."

"Yeah," said Alice, "by snogging him in the middle of the Library."

Eleanor laughed, her hand over her mouth.

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He kissed me back, at first…" Lily smiled. "But then he backed off, saying that he couldn't… he couldn't do it to James you see. It would be like betraying him, even though I assured him that Potter and I would _never_ be together." Her smile was a little sadder now. "Which was fair, I suppose, since I'd never do it to Alice… I still have a bit of a crush on him though… even now."

"I'm still astonished that you didn't smack him," said Alice, thoughtfully. "Technically he led you on for about a minute."

"I imagine he was probably in shock…" said Eleanor quietly.

"I suppose," said Alice, and yawned. "Well, good night you two."

"Goodnight."

"Night…"

_So_, she thought. _Definitely off-limits… He wouldn't do it to James, Lily wouldn't do it to Alice… and _I_ won't do it to her,_ she thought firmly, and turned over.

He was off limits, and that was that. No use sitting up and thinking about it.

She glared at her pillow for a few minutes.

_Really Ellie? What's the use?_ she thought to herself, angry that she could be so caught on someone barely a day after they had met.

_It's all a matter of will power, girl._

Angrily, she tried to force him from her mind…

It was some time before she drifted into sleep, still unable to shake the image of those grey eyes looking fondly back at her.


	4. First Aside, Big Bad LoupGarou

It didn't take long for Eleanor to settle into the rhythms of the school, the only major difference from her earlier education being a change in venue between classes; adjusting to the volume of students moving through the school and at mealtimes was much more difficult however. It wasn't too bad in class, where for the most part she could fade into the background beside her new friends, but in the rush between classes or the packed Great Hall at mealtimes it felt as though all eyes were on her.

She had taken up Remus's offer of sanctuary in the library on several occasions and had discovered in him both a delightfully sly wit and a thirst for knowledge that was on par with her own. Several times a week they could both be found toiling happily away behind one or another bookcase, content with their work and each other's company. She was dangerously aware of how easy it would be to fall for him, with his quiet patience, his warm grey eyes, and that hoarse little chuckle that always pulled her further in… and once, when he'd stretched in the common room, the delicious way his jumper had ridden up over his stomach…

Sometimes she caught him looking at her while she worked beside him, or relaxed with Annie or Lily in the common room, and she often wondered if he might be just as aware of her, quiet and reserved as he was. Not that it mattered, seeing as he was off-limits. She, Lily and Alice had become fast friends, and there was nothing she would do to hurt them or jeopardise that friendship. Thankfully, the sixth year workload offered plenty of distraction. Lily and Alice had also invited her to join their weekly study group with Frank and a sour faced boy from Slytherin, Severus Snape.

From these sessions Remus was conspicuously absent, an observation that was compounded one evening when he had spotted Eleanor and begun to make his way over to her before noticing her companions; he had blanched, turned in mid stride and nearly taken out the startled librarian in his haste to leave.

"Remus and Severus don't get on," Frank had explained in an undertone. "In fact I don't really like Severus most of the time, but he's friends with Lily, so I don't let it bother me."

Eleanor could see why; Severus was hard work. The first time she had joined the group he had scowled at her proffered hand and sneered at her home tutoring, only grudgingly offering her welcome because Lily had glared at him until he did. He had begun to warm to her of late because of her skill with Potions, giving them common ground on which to base discussion, though he didn't encourage conversation outside of the study group. Under his apparent mask of sourness he had concealed a wonderfully caustic sense of humour, and Eleanor quickly learned to value his input in group discussions, since he generally came at problems from a wholly unorthodox angle. Accordingly he had allowed her the odd brief smile when she brought something new to the table, and had even begun to nod in acknowledgement if they passed in the corridors.

He still had his moments of petulance however, usually characterised by a darkening of his countenance and a sharpening of his already keen sarcasm. On the occasion of Remus's hurried retreat he had gripped his quill so hard that it had splintered in his hand, leaving a mess of broken feather and ink on his parchment that had taken them a while to get off.

Part of the reason for their apparent mutual animosity became clear one Thursday break-time, when Remus and his friends were relaxing in a brief interlude of autumn sunlight in the Clock Tower Courtyard. Eleanor had been looking for him since they were the only two in their year taking Ancient Runes (much to Professor Castaway's disgruntlement) and it made sense to walk there together. She had been about to wave to the group when Severus had come out of the opposite cloister; it was difficult to say in what precise order things had transpired, but the gist is thus.

Both Severus and three of the Gryffindors had drawn their wands and flung hexes at one another without preamble, Remus hanging back and simply deflecting anything that came his way. Once a deadlock had been established James, Sirius and Peter had begun circling Severus, who was having a hard time trying to keep them all in sight; they had postured around one another, name calling and snarling for several minutes before 'Snivellus' as they were calling him appeared to make a mistake. Tiring of flinging barbs at James and Sirius, who were more than matching his banter, he started on Remus in earnest.

While her friend had remained largely impassive under this new onslaught, one affront made him start and blanch, while Sirius launched himself at Severus in anger. The ensuing fight had been broken up by tiny Professor Flitwick, who had been forced to levitate the two boys apart and escort them both to the Hospital Wing, scolding them roundly as he went. She'd stood and watched as both James and Peter had jostled their friend and slapped him on the back to cheer him up, and watched them exchange worried glances as he'd turned away to collect his things.

The strength of their feeling and Remus's reaction were curious, given the insult, and certainly something upon which Eleanor could not stop herself reflecting. After all, what possible reason could Severus have for calling Remus 'half-breed'?

Remus was still rattled by the time they had arrived at Ancient Runes, and found it very difficult to concentrate on his translation, a fact that his classmate had no trouble at all picking up on.

He had come _so close_ to being revealed.

Realising that Eleanor was watching him more closely than usual, he attempted to pull himself together and worked steadily for the remainder of the class. It wasn't until they were walking back down to lunch that Eleanor decided to call him on it.

"Are you feeling alright today?" she asked, moving out of the way of a couple of high-speed first years. "Only you seemed a bit distant earlier…"

"Er – yes, I'm fine, thank you. I – er, didn't sleep particularly well is all," he stammered.

She had shot him a shrewd look at that, making him suddenly very worried about how much she had witnessed prior to her arrival in the Courtyard. She didn't press him further, however, and they were soon caught up in the usual bustle of the Great Hall at lunchtime.

The events of the morning continued to puzzle Eleanor however, as the week wore on. Why had the boys reacted so strongly to what could only have been a throwaway comment? Why, for that matter, did Severus and the Gryffindor boys hate one another so completely?

And why hadn't Remus wanted her to know?

0o0o0o0

Nearly a week later, she began to comprehend her answer.

For the first time since she'd known him, Remus (who was notoriously bad at getting up and therefore made an extra effort to be punctual) was late for breakfast. He forgot his textbook for Charms and had to share Peter's, which was a little dog-eared to say the least. He barely even registered that Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts and a veritable giant of a man, had said hello to him in the corridor.

He pushed nearly a full plate of food away at lunch, and blanched a little at the plate of steaks a fifth year boy had asked him to pass over, loosening his tie as if it was suddenly much warmer in the room. He barely took any notes at all in Transfiguration, not that Eleanor had much time to watch, since James's newly transformed Labrador had escaped and the class had been required to round the thing up so he could turn it back into its previous incarnation of a lampshade.

In the afternoon he – and this was the clincher, as far as Eleanor was concerned – _actually fell asleep in History of Magic_. To be fair, if it had been anyone else she wouldn't have been that surprised. Professor Binns, the only teacher in Hogwarts who hadn't let death deflect him from the pursuit of his subject, could make a manticore attack sound like the driest civil suit ever conceived. But it wasn't anyone else, it was Remus Lupin. The boy who in her first week in Binns' class had instructed her to read the interesting bits of the textbook in order to stay awake – something he had apparently been employing for the previous five years in order not to miss some useful titbit of information.

By the time they'd finished dinner, Eleanor was really beginning to worry about him.

Although his appetite appeared to have returned – he ate three helpings of everything within reach with the gusto of a famished man – he was paler and more drawn than ever, with dark circles forming under his eyes… and he kept making comments that seemed completely out of character for his usually retiring nature.

He joined Sirius in maintaining a largely derisory running commentary of the female population of the Great Hall, managing at points to even out-perv' his friend. He laughed in the face of a second year who admonished him for taking the last lamb chop, and even began to flirt outrageously with Alice _right in front of Frank_. It was downright weird.

The feeling began to steal upon Eleanor, as dinner wore on, that she too was being scrutinised; whenever she glanced up at Remus, however, he would be thoroughly engrossed in verbally undressing the student body or wolfing down his food. As she cleared her plate, however, he met her curious glance full on and held it for just a few seconds. The sheer intensity of his gaze shocked her, and she felt herself shiver. She couldn't tear herself from his eyes: grey and mischievous and very slightly predatory. Had he just _winked_ at her?

Eleanor was beginning to think that someone had slipped him a suspect potion.

The strangest thing of all, though, was that nobody else seemed to notice it, everyone getting on with eating as if this was perfectly normal Remus-behaviour…

It didn't escape her notice that when they made to leave the Hall, Sirius picked up Remus's bag without even looking at him, and again, nobody commented. Sighing, she said her goodbyes and made her way to the Library to get out a couple of Herbology texts for her and Alice's joint research project; clearly, whatever was wrong with him, he was well tended. She was nearly there when she heard a shout behind her.

"Eleanor!"

Remus was running to catch up; he had taken his tie off entirely now and looked a good deal more dishevelled than usual, his brown hair spun with gold in the flickering torchlight. She had never seen him run before… he cut a strangely athletic figure, pale as he was; it was almost as if he usually controlled his movements to conceal this fact.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he panted. "I forgot to say at dinner – there's a couple of books I thought we could get out to help with our next translation." He gave her a toothy grin that made her breath catch in her throat and looped his arm around hers, eyes sparkling. "We could get started on Sunday, if you're game." He was a lot closer to her now than he'd ever been and she felt her skin prickle in response to the warmth of his bare forearm, brushing against hers.

_Off Limits, _she thought, desperately.

"Um – sure –"

"I mean, I'd suggest we started on Saturday, but it's the first Quidditch match of the season and Gryffindor are playing and we'd never hear the end of it if we didn't go… not to mention the after-match party that will inevitably last until the small hours. Oh, by the way," he said, steering her towards the library. "Sirius takes it as a personal affront when a girl turns him down, so he'll probably try to get a bit, well, _handsy_ at the party…" he squeezed her arm reassuringly. "But don't worry, I'll make him keep his filthy paws off of you," his voice was still cheerful when he said this, but Eleanor could have sworn she'd heard the edge of a growl…

They made fairly quick work of the library, since they both knew precisely what they were after; as soon as Remus had booked out the tomes on Ancient Runes he made a beeline for her as she waited by the door and immediately reclaimed her arm, as if it were his right.

"I'm glad I caught up with you actually," he said, as they set off in the general direction of the common room. "We've not been able to spend any time together really – I mean outside of schoolwork – since that day in Hogsmeade… I liked it, that day, with everyone around," he was suddenly excited. "It was excellent fun, don't you think?" he asked earnestly. His demeanour was so much like that of a small excited puppy that she was a little surprised not to see a wagging tail.

"Er, yes," she said, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation and not on the familiar way he'd grasped her arm when he'd asked the question. "Everyone's been so kind and welcoming."

"They _are_, aren't they? I do enjoy their company. Well," he qualified, "most of the time. They can be so _loud_ sometimes."

Eleanor laughed, nervously.

"That they can."

He awarded her another brilliant smile.

"And people are always in and out of each other's business," he continued, quickening his pace. "And each other's possessions," he said quietly, his grip ever so slightly tightening on her arm.

"Anyway, what do you say to spending some time together – outside of the Library?" he asked, with all the confidence of a Gryffindor. "We seldom get to see each other socially…" he paused and turned to her. "…and I like spending time with you."

He gave her another skin tingling smile, which made her blush all the harder.

_He's Off Limits Ellie, OFF LIMITS!_

They were in a part of the school which Eleanor hadn't seen much of before, and there were a good deal fewer students walking through the darkening halls. Just where was he taking her?

Firmly, he pulled her to one side beside a statue of an ancient storm mage holding an angry looking raven.

"What-"

"I _really_ like spending time with you," he said, standing just a _little_ too close to her; suddenly she could feel the heat of his not-quite-touching-her body mingling with hers, and her head began to spin with warmth and want, making her dizzy. If only he would move nearer… close the gap between them… but he was off limits – she took a deep breath and pulled a half step away from him. There was cool stone against her back and she realised too late that she was now right up against the statue. He moistened his lips.

"You're just so…" he trailed off, reaching out to her. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, the fingers of his other hand just grazing her hip, sending delicious shivers of desire through her. Eleanor was very aware that she was losing what fragile grip she had on her remaining will power… but she couldn't look away.

His lips, warm and pink and curved in that wicked, un-Remus-like smile, were _so close_ to hers… it wouldn't take much now for them to meet… Eleanor wasn't sure that she'd be able to stop him.

"So…" he frowned, as if the word was lodged on the tip of his brain; finally, his expression brightened in triumph. "So very _Eleanor_," he whispered, and leant determinedly towards her.

_Off Li- oh, bugger it,_ she thought, and let him kiss her.

It was perfectly chaste at first, although to Eleanor it felt as though she were being pulled headlong into some inexorable cavern of feeling; she could taste the dark, sweet, chocolate he'd had for pudding on his lips and tongue as he began to explore her mouth. She pulled him closer, powerless to her own desire – bag and books forgotten on the floor as he pressed against her, all heat and muscle and scent, running his hands up and down her sides, long fingers tangling in her hair.

Gradually, the frenetic need that had spurred them into action slowed to a slow, steady fervour, their need for one another cooling to a smoulder as they kissed and held and touched. Lost in a delirium of sensation, Eleanor was astonished to feel him pull away from her. Bewilderment however, soon cascaded to concern as Remus gasped and clutched at his chest in pain.

"What? What is it?"

"I- can't- breathe-" he choked, reaching out blindly in panic and pulling her to the floor beside him. "Help-"

Eleanor swore, what the hell were you supposed to do if someone couldn't breathe? She pulled out her wand.

"Anapneo!" She shouted, but to no avail.

Distantly remembering something she'd overheard in a muggle village as a child, she pulled him into a sitting position, and forced herself to be calm.

"Is there anything in your throat?" she asked, quietly, holding him up.

Still gasping for air, Remus managed to shake his head.

"Asthma?"

Another 'no'. There really wasn't any way she could move him – or a way to get a message to the Hospital Wing, not that she knew where that was. Not for the first time, she wished that someone had thought to give her a map of the place.

"Right," she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. "Lean forward, hands on your knees – I know it's easier said than done, but try to stay calm…"

Although he appeared to be trying to follow her instructions, he was still clearly panicking, reaching for breaths that just weren't coming; in a deep, terrified part of her mind it registered that the edges of his lips were beginning to turn blue.

Sending a silent prayer to whatever deity it was that watched over misbehaving teens, she knelt down behind him and pulled him back against her chest.

"I need you to breathe with me," she said, willing her own breathing under control. "Just pay attention to my breathing Remus, that's it, it's going to be ok-"

The seconds of his desperate gasps for air seemed to stretch on forever; she held him to her as firmly as she dared, the other hand had been caught by his, frantically clutching at her as his only lifeline. She couldn't give up now. Finally, just when she was beginning to think that picking him up and making a mad dash for a more civilised part of the school was her only option, his breathing began to slow, matching the calm steady beat she was forcing herself to maintain.

It took some time, but he eventually relaxed against her, breath still a little ragged. They sat like that for a few minutes, not daring to move, until Eleanor couldn't fight the cramp in her legs anymore and swore.

"S-sorry," he said, shakily.

"There is no way that that was your fault," said Eleanor, assessing him. He was still very pale and shiny with sweat, but the blue tinge around his lips had gone, at least. "Although I'd appreciate it if you'd never do that _ever_ again."

"So would I," he panted. "I think I need to go to the Hospital Wing," he said, rubbing his chest.

"Agreed," said Eleanor, packing their spilled books into her bag with a flick of her wand. "You're going to have to point the way though. Can you stand up, do you think?"

He could, but not particularly well; she slung his arm over her shoulder.

"Eleanor," he said, leaning on her gratefully. "Th-thank you…"

"Don't mention it."

It took them a surprisingly short time to get to the Hospital Wing, which Eleanor had been certain was in an entirely different part of the school; she hadn't failed to notice that some of the passages which Remus had directed her down weren't readily visible.

Madame Pomfrey took immediate charge of him when they arrived, hustling him to the nearest bed and interrogating her in a businesslike manner.

She missed out the part where they had very nearly defamed school property.

"Quick thinking on your part, Miss Wren," the matronly witch announced, approvingly. "You need to return to your dormitory now though, I'm afraid, Mr Lupin here needs his rest. I'll have the House Elves send you up a restorative," she added more kindly, and patted her lightly on the shoulder as she made off to fetch Remus a potion. Eleanor dragged a hand across her eyes. _Funny_, she thought… she hadn't even realised she'd been crying.

He looked at her from the bed, pale and drawn, and no longer in possession of that wicked grin; it struck her suddenly how frail he looked.

"Er – I'd better go then," she said, uncertainly, suddenly unwilling to leave him. "Feel better…"

He nodded and watched her go.

"Thank you," he said quietly after her, grimacing in a fresh burst of pain.

0o0o0o0

She didn't remember exactly how she'd got back to the Common Room, but in no time at all she was being inspected by a very worried Fat Lady and hurrying up the steps to the boys' dormitory. Silently thanking the architect's apparent need for symmetry she pushed open the second door, and felt immediately that she had come right into the middle of something.

"… don't find him soon there's going to be a serious problem," James was saying.

"Where the hell could he be?" demanded Sirius, apparently of the world at large. "Hogwarts is huge, there's no way we could find him in time, and soon it won't matter!"

"Eleanor!" said Peter, noticing her. "Merlin's ghost, are you alright?"

She must have looked a right sight with her dishevelled clothes and tear streaked face. Abruptly she was surrounded by three earnest and very worried boys; it was a lot like being in the centre of a sudden and very specific eclipse.

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, feeling very far from it indeed. "It's Remus, he had some sort of attack –" She couldn't help noticing how all three of them stiffened at that. "He just stopped breathing – I took him to the Hospital Wing…"

"He stopped _breathing_?"

"Fuck! Is he ok?"

On her nod, James appeared to assume command.

"Right," he said, "you two get to the Hospital Wing, I'll catch you up."

"Madame Pomfrey said he needed to rest," Eleanor said, uncertainly.

"And so he can," said Sirius fiercely, "just as soon as we've seen him."

"Don't get caught," called James. He turned to Eleanor as the two boys raced for the stairs, both looking pale and determined. "It must have been a bit of a shock."

"That's a bit of an understatement," she said, shakily.

_I'm shaking,_ she thought, _why am I shaking?_

"Come on," he said, putting a strong arm around her shoulders. "Best get you to your dorm'…"

Eleanor let him steer her down the stairs and back into the common room.

"Can't get you any further, I'm afraid, bloody anti-boy charm. Oy! Lily!" he shouted, grip still firm about her. She was a little grateful, truth be told; she wasn't entirely sure why but her legs were beginning to stage a mutiny.

Lily's outraged face appeared at the top of the girls' stairs.

"What in Merlin's name –" she began, but then she saw Eleanor. "Imps and pixies! What happened?" She rushed down towards them, and took her friend's arm.

"Remus stopped breathing," James said. "Eleanor was with him – he's in the Hospital Wing."

"He stopped _breathing_?" Lily had gone very pale.

"He was doing better when I left," Eleanor managed.

"Sirius and Peter have gone to see if he needs anything – I'm going to catch them up." He gave Eleanor a worried look. "If Madame Pomfrey had time to tell you to come back here then he's going to be alright," he told her firmly, and she nodded numbly.

"Look after her," he mouthed over her head, before setting off out of the portrait hole at a sprint.

"Come on, upstairs," said Lily in a commanding voice, which didn't fool either of them.

Alice was reading on her bed when they reached the dormitory, ready to tease Lily about answering James's summons. When she saw them however, she was at Eleanor's other side in an instant.

"What-"

"In a minute," said Lily, steering Eleanor to her bed, which she gratefully sank into. "Remus had some sort of attack after he left the Great Hall this evening…"

Eleanor drew her legs up to her chin as Lily filled Alice in.

"Merlin's ghost!" Alice said, sitting down beside her. "What happened? I mean, did he just stop in mid-sentence or something?"

Eleanor told them, though she neglected to mention what they'd been doing immediately prior to his attack… a niggling part at the back of her mind was quite worried that whatever it was had been her fault.

She drew a great ragged breath and realised to her embarrassment that she was crying again.

"S-sorry," she sniffled, head in her hands.

"Nonsense," said Lily, from somewhere beside her, "I think anyone who's just had a scare like that is entitled to a bit of a cry."

0o0

Madame Pomfrey's restorative potion, which popped into existence on Eleanor's bedside table was warm and gingery and made her feel a hell of a lot better; the matron of Hogwarts knew her stuff – clearly Remus was in safe hands. Peter called up to them a bit later on to tell them that Remus was doing a bit better and that Sirius had been caught trying to sneak in to the Hospital Wing. Apparently after the third such intrusion, Madame Pomfrey had hauled him off to McGonagall, which made them all chuckle.

Feeling that if the boys could joke about it then things were looking up, Eleanor turned her attention to her own state of being. Although she was a good deal calmer than she had been, she was still tense, and decided that the best way of combating this would be a spot of exercise.

"I think I'm going for a swim," she announced, as Lily and Alice got ready for bed.

"What, in the lake?" asked Alice, surprised.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm quite a strong swimmer."

"But it's after curfew," she said, shooting a worried glance at Lily.

"I won't get caught," Eleanor said, forgetting for a moment that Lily was, in fact, a prefect.

"Never mind that," said Lily, possibly surprising even herself, "there are Mer-people in the lake-"

"I speak Mermish," Eleanor said. "My mother taught me."

"-and a giant squid-"

"-and Hinkypunks-"

Eleanor gave them a hard look. Something was definitely going on.

"It's not safe – there are things in the Forest you wouldn't want to meet," said Lily firmly.

"Like what?" said Eleanor. If they were going to try to distract her she might as well see what she could get out of them while they tried. Honestly. As if she were afraid of Hinkypunks.

"Well…" Lily faltered, apparently at a loss. "Sirius said there was a colony of Acromantula…"

Eleanor stared at her. Could she _hear_ herself?

"Sirius Black told me on the first day I met him that he'd been a cover model for Witch Weekly for the last three years."

"Point taken," said Lily, unhappily. "But there are things in the Forest that you shouldn't go near, like… like…"

Outside in the grounds something howled, making them all jump.

"Like werewolves," finished Alice, quietly.

She had to admit, that was a pretty good reason not to go outside tonight…

"Why didn't you say that first?" she asked. "Werewolves are a very good reason for not being outside at night."

"We – er – didn't want to scare you," said Lily, with all the conviction of someone who knows she won't be believed.

"Oh," said Eleanor. "Thanks."

She watched her two friends get ready for bed; every so often the howl from the grounds would echo up to their tower and both girls would exchange worried glances. Eleanor sighed and decided that in lieu of a good swim, a hot shower would have to do.

Upon returning from the bathroom however, Lily and Alice could be heard whispering hurriedly to one another, which did nothing at all for Eleanor's peace of mind.

"… but what if she _knows_?" Alice was asking.

"Then we'll talk to her about it – but not until we're sure…"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. At least she could be certain that neither of her room-mates would ever be able to keep anything important from her without her noticing.

_Like you are from Lily_, her mind supplied, accusingly. She shook her head and pushed the voice away. After all, given the events of the evening it was unlikely that _that_ would ever happen again…

Unable to sleep, she listened to Alice's soft snores and tried really hard not to remember how delicious Remus had tasted, pressed up against her and –

_Stop it, Ellie._

Frustrated, she opened her school bag, intending to get some reading done; her hands grazed the unfamiliar cover of an Ancient Runes text…

_Remus's books…_ she thought. _Well, I should probably put them in his dorm…_ She glanced at her alarm clock: the boys would be fast asleep by now…

Slowly a smile slid across her features… it wasn't as distracting as a good swim, but sneaking into the midst of three sleeping Gryffindors would be an excellent challenge.

Silently, she slipped out of bed and padded across the floor, careful not to wake her room-mates. From what she remembered, the boys' door didn't creak, so she needn't be too careful… she pushed it open. Bright moonlight was shining into the tower through the mullioned window, bathing the four beds in a soft blue glow.

_Now,_ she thought, _which bed is Remus's?_

Stood in the middle of the room she waited for her eyes to adjust to the relative brightness of the room; it probably wasn't the one nearest the door, that one had a giant poster of a Quidditch team tacked to it, the tiny players zooming back and forth after their own miniature quaffle.

_James_, she thought, smiling slightly. Who else?

Peter's bed was also reasonably easy to identify… it was surrounded by small stacks of parchment, scores perhaps, from the choir…

There was a ring of darker wood around the next bed, as if something had exploded there recently… the edge of a Gryffindor Quidditch strip was poking out from under the bed; a poster of a scantily clad witch atop a muggle motorbike winked out at her seductively. _Sirius_, she thought, rolling her eyes.

She gave a small wave to the witch, who smiled and waved back; apparently being stuck in a room full of prepubescent wizards wasn't necessarily her idea of a good time.

Which left the bed by the window: his table was fairly neat, though a large stack of books was teetering on the edge of it. She frowned: she'd need to be careful near those…

Silently, she crept across the room and set the books down on the floor by his bed; she glanced at the empty covers. He really hadn't looked well earlier. Turning to leave, her eyes fell on James's bed – the hangings were open, leaving her in absolutely no doubt: _James wasn't in his bed._ She glanced at Peter's bed… there was no evidence of a sleeping boy there either. Sirius's hangings were closed…

Cautiously, she pulled them aside slightly.

Where the hell were they?

No longer having the need for caution, she pulled out her wand.

"Lumos," she whispered.

This was weird… admittedly, they might have hidden out somewhere near the Hospital Wing to keep an eye on their friend, but why had Peter bothered to come back and wish them a goodnight?

She had another look at his bed, the light of her wand illuminating his bedside cabinet. For some reason, there was a block of cheese on it.

Seized by irrepressible curiosity, and aware that this opportunity would probably never repeat itself, she had a good nose around. After all, they'd undoubtedly do the same, given half the chance.

Sirius had several unexploded dung bombs under his bed, along with a half-finished chart for Divination; she stifled a snort. She knew that he and James had only taken it as a 'doss' subject, and that the resident Professor was an appalling teacher; in her first week she had spent a very amusing half hour helping them to come up with less and less likely misfortunes to befall them as part of their prediction homework…

James's bed was largely uninteresting, his possessions largely comprising quidditch equipment and half chewed sugar quills, although she _did_ find a scrap of parchment with the letters 'JP + LE' scrawled on it inside a rather ornate heart. It was unlikely that she'd ever get to tease Lily about it though. Her friend probably wouldn't appreciate her nocturnal wanderings.

Finally, she turned back to Remus's bed. He'd left it fairly neatly in the morning, and someone, presumably Sirius, had deposited his schoolbag on top of his pillow. She smiled. The schoolbag had seen better days – it looked like Remus had had to repair it several times, probably from the sheer volume of books he tended to haul around with him. She glanced at the stack of books on his table… most of them were textbooks, some of them on subjects he didn't take anymore, but the smallest of them, sandwiched between 'Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration' and 'Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes' caught her eye.

'Hairy Snout, Human Heart' she read, eyes widening. She knew that book… she glanced out of the window at the full moon, which stared impassively back.

_Oh._


	5. Second Aside, Shits and Giggles

His whole body screaming resistance, Remus struggled into wakefulness. He was back in the Hospital Wing, and from the feel of things the wolf in him had had a reasonably eventful night. Dazedly he remembered chasing Prongs and Wormtail around the grounds… Padfoot had been late for some reason. The pillock had probably earned himself a detention. Typical.

He flexed his limbs experimentally: nope, they still hurt like hell. He sighed heavily and went to turn over – at least, he tried to. What should have been a sigh left him coughing and gulping for breath.

_That's new,_ he thought, massaging his chest.

The commotion had alerted Madame Pomfrey and she came bustling over, several familiar bottles of potion tucked into her apron.

"Now, now, Mr Lupin, just lie still…" obediently he let her check his wounds, wincing every so often. Some of these new scratches would scar, he knew, others would heal this month only to be ripped apart the next. He huffed to himself. It was difficult, sometimes, to remain optimistic about a life where the moon controlled your shape.

"I heard you coughing, can you breathe properly?"

Remus nodded… he often couldn't remember the night of his transformation, but generally he didn't do anything to harm his lungs…why would she a-

"You gave us quite a scare last night," she said, a deep frown forming on her face. "Miss Wren too – she probably saved your life you know."

Something unpleasant reared in the groggy recesses of his brain…

_Oh Merlin,_ he thought, remembering his desperate struggle for breath, and the way she'd held him until his body had begun to co-operate again.

"Was she ok?" he managed, voice rasping unpleasantly.

Madame Pomfrey smiled at him, fondly.

"Always thinking of others, aren't you? She was very shaken, but I suspect she'll be alright, particularly when she sees you up and about later on… I won't be surprised if she doesn't visit you actually." Her expression darkened slightly. "Your friends did, several times. I had to haul Mr Black out of here _three times_ before I took you down to the Shack."

_Well, at least he hasn't been sneaking into the girls' loos again_, Remus thought. _I'll have to thank him…_

"Drink this," she instructed, pulling him painfully upright. "It will help with your chest."

He swallowed the silky blue liquid and sank gratefully back down into his pillow.

"Try to get some rest. I don't think you'll be out of here until evening this time." She drew the screens around him as she left, and not for the first time Remus was profoundly glad of Madame Pomfrey's practical and unflinching acceptance of his condition. Taking a deep breath (and succeeding this time, with only a small twinge) he settled back and let his mind drift away from how much various parts of his body hurt. He could feel his chest catch very slightly with every breath he took.

_It's strange_, he thought,_ how you spend your entire life breathing, not even noticing you're doing it, until you can't… it was a good job Eleanor was there…_

He smiled comfortably, now _there_ was a subject that he could happily dwell on.

_Eleanor… with her storm-cloud eyes, and the way she twists her hair when she works, and that smile…_ he stopped a moment to consider her lips, _perfect, and pink, and full, and on mine…_

Another chunk of memory slid into place with all the sensitivity of a sledgehammer. Remus's eyes flew open.

Oh _fuck._

0o0o0o0

By the time Madame Pomfrey had forced him to eat some lunch (not that he felt he deserved food, closet molester as he apparently was), he was feeling well enough to sit up and the rest of the Marauders arrived.

"You had us worried mate," said Sirius, straddling a chair, "going all blue like that – I think you scared the shit out of new-girl too."

"What happened anyway?" asked Peter, taking a packet of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Jelly Beans from somewhere about his person. "One minute you were right behind us, and the next you'd run off somewhere."

"Yeah, we were worried in case –" James lowered his voice. "In case you didn't get back in time."

"I – er – needed to go to the Library," Remus said, not meeting their eyes.

"On the night of the full moon?" asked Peter. "Ow! I said it _quietly_!"

"He has a point Moony," said Sirius, concerned. "Anything might have happened."

"Anything nearly did," said James. "I stayed with Eleanor a bit longer than the others and she was a real mess… what set you off?"

"I don't know," said Remus, untruthfully. "But I think the wolf wanted to change early… I guess fighting him off stopped me breathing."

His friends shared worried looks.

"Then you skip dinner in future," said Sirius firmly. "We can bring you something to eat down at the Shack… last night was too close a call."

Remus nodded sadly, then, remembering something, said "Thanks – for sneaking in to check on me – Madame Pomfrey said you got caught a few times."

"Only because this idiot doesn't know the meaning of subtlety," said Peter as Sirius grinned.

"Minnie had me cataloguing her journal articles – I think she was as worried about you as the rest of us."

He chuckled along with the rest of them, but his heart wasn't really in it. Interpreting this as exhaustion, James bustled his friends out of the Hospital Wing, but Remus called him back.

"Would you thank Eleanor for me?" he asked. "She saved my life last night."

He watched them go, miserably.

_Which I wouldn't have needed her to do if I hadn't let my wolfishness take over and –_ he blushed. He remembered with painful clarity the way she'd tried to pull away from him, and the delicious way she'd tasted and felt as he'd pressed her up against that statue… He'd felt the wolf rising and had pushed him back.

The wolf had tried to get out early because his guard had been down, he knew… he'd been feeling pretty wolfish himself. The poor beast had probably been unable to resist.

_Apparently fumbling around with attractive young witches is a bad idea just before full moon… _he thought, sternly. It was just that Eleanor was so enticing… and she didn't seem to know it, which made her even more alluring. He'd noticed her curious glances over dinner – he'd undoubtedly been acting a little out of character, that was the problem with full moons as a hormonal teenage boy – and hadn't been able to stop himself following her when she'd left the group.

_That's right Moony_, he thought savagely, disgusted with himself. _Separate them from the group and pick them off._

If only she wasn't so warm and kind and intelligent… he could ignore other girls easily, either they were too pretty, or not pretty enough, or with the general mental capacity of a dormouse… _or someone else's_ he reminded himself. But Eleanor was none of those things… she was improbably and inescapably herself; even though she was still shy around most of their classmates, she'd let him see flashes of her wicked sense of humour and achingly bright smile. In their numerous study sessions he'd been struggling to resist her…

_Not that it matters now, _he thought sulkily, _she probably wont want anything to do with me anymore. _

About this, it turned out, he was exactly one hundred percent wrong.

"Hey," Eleanor said, dropping herself into Sirius's recently vacated chair.

Surprised, and a little bit afraid of what she might say, he stammered.

"Er- hi."

"Feeling better?" she asked. Was it just him, or was she having trouble meeting his eyes?

"Much… er – Eleanor, about last night-"

"I got James's message," she interrupted. "– you're welcome."

"Oh, good… er – Madame Pomfrey said I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you…"

She flashed him a small smile and took his hand, as if to reassure herself that he was still there. He swallowed. An ache that had nothing to do with his injuries was beginning to spread through his body.

"Then I'm glad I was there," she said. "Had me really worried for a while though…"

"Sorry…"

She shook her head at him slightly, as if this conversation wasn't quite going the way she'd wanted it to.

"I brought you some notes from Ancient Runes," she said, pulling her hand away to reach into her bag; he missed the contact instantly. "Professor Castaway said to tell you to 'buck up,' whatever that means…"

"Thanks," he smiled. If she had thought enough of him to bring him notes, perhaps she didn't resent him as much as he'd feared. "I should be back to normal by tomorrow."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at him.

"This happen to you a lot, then?"

"Er – unfortunately," he said, finding it pointless not to admit to the frequency of his condition, if not its nature. As the only other person in at least one of his classes, she'd notice when he wasn't around. "I have this condition… it comes back every few weeks… I get a bit -" he searched for an appropriate word for his behaviour the previous evening, and gave up. "Odd. And then this happens," he continued, gesturing to some of the scratches on his arms. "I don't usually stop breathing though, that was a new one on me."

"That must be exhausting," she said, and took back his hand. He nodded, feeling he'd handled that rather well. Then:

"Do they know what it is?"

"No – no, they don't."

He could have sworn that she was giving him a searching look, but it was gone in a second, replaced by the same quiet concern. A prickle of doubt began to form in his mind.

"Seems like the kind of condition that people would hear about," she continued slowly, apparently oblivious to precisely how frightening her words were. "I mean, it's not every day you see someone's flesh tear itself to shreds… they almost look like… claw marks," she added, almost to herself.

Remus swallowed; this was dangerous territory. He had to distract her. Fortunately, the action of gulping set off another coughing fit. He reached for the potion Madame Pomfrey had left him and took a swig. What a mess he must look…

He turned back to Eleanor to apologise, but she was staring at his side. When he'd turned, his pyjama shirt had been pulled across to reveal his bare, scarred skin and there, just below his ribs, was the imperfect half circle of tooth-marks that had got him in this mess in the first place.

He froze.

Eleanor however, did not. She had her head slightly to one side, seemingly mesmerised by the sight of those offending prick-marks; the irony was not lost on him that of all his injuries, those had healed the quickest. Almost without realising it, she reached out and brushed her fingertips across the bite mark, making him shiver in both fear and unhelpful teenage lust. Madly, he wondered just how much Madame Pomfrey would mind if he just pulled her into his lap _right here _and had his wicked way with her.

Probably quite a lot.

Somehow, he forced his frightened vocal chords into action.

"I er – was b-bitten by a dog when I was little…" he stammered.

"A dog?" Eleanor asked, apparently still unaware of the dual turmoil her fingers were causing in her convalescing friend.

"A – a pit-bull, Mum said…"

Eleanor spread her fingers out across his skin, ignoring the gasp that this action caused.

"Bit big, for a pit-bull…" she said.

_Oh Gods_, he thought, _she's measuring the bite –_

"Might have been an Alsatian," he said, hurriedly pulling his shirt back down.

"Bit of a difference," Eleanor reflected, still staring at the fabric concealing his shame.

"It was a long time ago," he mumbled, and she met his eyes.

"Sorry," she blushed, recognising the fear there. "I should get to Potions…"

She stood to leave and Remus stared at her.

"Er – I hope you feel better soon – well," she qualified, "for the time being at least…"

"Yes…"

Embarrassed, Eleanor turned and left him to his thoughts without meeting his eyes.

_Get a hold of yourself!_ She thought sternly. _Since when could you not keep your hands off someone? That sort of thing only leads to disaster, as you mother has often told you… and he's _Lily's!

Remus watched her go, torn somewhere between mortification at the thought of precisely what he wanted to do to her (and what he already _had_ done to her) and the terrifying possibility that was threatening to consume him.

She _knew_. Or almost did, and that was just as bad.

He rubbed his face angrily. What in Hecate's name was he going to do?

0o0o0o0

By the time Remus was caught up in all his lectures, Eleanor was kicking herself for being so forward. Of course he didn't like her: it was just his lupine (heh!) self acting on his baser instincts with the nearest witch to hand… she'd surmised as much from the way he'd tried to stammer an apology. Clearly, he regretted his actions.

Which was a pity, really… she blushed. _Not a pity,_ she told herself firmly. _The best for everyone concerned. _But she did miss talking to him as a friend.

She drummed her fingers impatiently on the wood of the desk in front of her. She'd completed her transfiguration of a button into a butterfly nearly half an hour previously and was glumly watching it flutter against the insides of an upturned jar.

_Beat, beat, beat_, went the butterfly's wings.

She'd been so _sure_ she could talk to him about his condition… but he seemed to be too afraid. Not that she blamed him. People could be perfectly horrid sometimes.

_Drum, drum, drum_, went her fingers.

She remembered the night that the mob had chased her groundskeepers' nephew out of their chalet and down to the river; she could still hear their shouts of outrage as he'd simply swum across and made a run for it. As if werewolves couldn't cross running water.

_Beat, beat, beat_.

It wasn't as if she couldn't keep a secret… he already knew that, what with her quiet confession about her mother, even a secret as big as his…

_Drum, drum, dr_-

That was it! How could she have been so stupid? Remus's secret was so big it could destroy him, no wonder he was frightened to share it. She'd just have to give him something just as dangerous in return, as a reassurance of her intentions.

Triumphantly, she glanced up at him across the classroom. He too had a butterfly beating away under the jar in front of him; he was rolling his eyes at Sirius, who was apparently trying to turn his button into a vampire bat.

She snorted, and the movement made him look up at her.

For just a second, he stared back at her, like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck; he flashed her a terrified smile and looked determinedly back at his butterfly.

_If I can ever get him to listen to me_, she thought sadly.

Ever since she'd visited him in the Hospital Wing he'd run out of every room she entered – with the exception of the Ancient Runes classroom, which would have been rather difficult to explain to Professor Castaway. He barely even spoke to her there, too, and truth be told, she was beginning to get a little sick of it.

She glanced back across at him, and this time it was Sirius who caught her eye, and he winked, salaciously. Eleanor rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. At the first post-Quidditch party of the year she had quickly discovered that the best way of dealing with Sirius was playing along; he was beginning to get a bit too cosy with her though, and she had a feeling that she was going to have to put him down quite harshly soon. She laughed as his bell jar jumped across the desk towards Remus's butterfly. His vampire bat hadn't turned out too badly at all.

0o0o0o0

Remus closed the door to the dormitories behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. If he'd been worried that she suspected him when she'd visited him in the Hospital Wing, now he was certain. Eleanor seemed determined to question him… he'd caught her glancing at him in class several times with that frown on her face, as if she was trying to figure him out.

He sat on his bed with a thump.

Now if only he could stop looking at her in the first place…

0o0o0o0

By late October, his second transformation of the year had been and gone, and he was aware that the Marauders were getting suspicious of his avoidance of the spirited Miss Wren, whom they all agreed was settling into their group rather well.

After legging it to the safety of the dormitory for the third time that Saturday afternoon, Sirius and James had apparently had enough.

He heard them coming, wolf that he was, and pulled a pillow over his head. It had only been a matter of time before they asked; they weren't patient men.

He felt either side of his bed dip as they cut off his escape routes.

"So," said James, from somewhere on his left.

"So," repeated Sirius, from his other side.

It was a curious interrogation technique, but one that never failed; they might not be subtle, but Gods were they tenacious.

"Ffug off" said Remus, deep within his cushion.

"What have you got against the lovely Eleanor?" asked Sirius, the very antithesis of tact.

"Nufffn."

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," said James.

"Tufff."

Sirius and James shared a glance and wordlessly hauled him upright, holding him in place.

"I'll ask again," said Sirius, now with a bit of an edge to his voice. "What have you got against our lovely Eleanor?"

"Nothing," said Remus, heavily, avoiding their eyes.

"Strange that," said James, "since you leave the room every time she comes in."

"Yes," agreed Sirius. "Very strange – in fact you pretty much bolted when she sat down with us for lunch."

"I'm surprised she hasn't taken it personally," said James, in that infuriatingly arrogant tone he got when someone annoyed him. "You running away from her all the time."

"So am I," said Sirius. "I'd say a lesser young lady would find it bloody rude."

The sheer hypocrisy of this statement made Remus stare at his friend, a hot blush of anger staining his face.

"Oh, would she?" he growled, wolf and boy both rising to the challenge. "Like you can tell what a girl would find rude!"

James pushed him firmly back down into a sitting position.

"In this instance I'd say he's fairly accurate," said James. "Even Lily said so."

"Oh, and that makes it fact of course," Remus muttered, but not too loud. He _was_ being rude to Eleanor, and he knew it. He just couldn't think of anything else to do.

"What was that?" James asked sharply, and it was Sirius's turn to push his friend back down.

"Come on Remus," he said, "you're usually the last person to start a fight. What's up?"

Remus met his eye, ready to face his friend down, but found that he couldn't and sank back.

"I think she knows – or at least suspects," he told them, wretchedly.

"Knows what?" asked Sirius, perplexed.

"That he's a you-know-what, you tit," said James, tensely. "How?"

"She came to see me after my attack… she was asking lots of questions…" he swallowed and continued very quietly. "And she saw my bite."

Both of them were staring at him.

"How did she see your bite – it's halfway up your front, you'd have to've been half naked-" said Sirius, incredulously, but James interrupted him.

"What did you tell her?"

"That – that I was bitten by a dog when I was a child… I don't think she believed me. My pyjamas slipped," he added for Sirius's benefit.

James was frowning at him. "And she can hardly have missed that you're ill every four weeks…"

"I told her I had a weird condition that resurfaced every so often…"

The three friends stared at one another.

"We'll just have to keep her away from you, that's all," said James, firmly.

"I'll distract her," Sirius offered, with just a little too much relish for Remus's liking.

"We'll fill Pete in tonight, after his rehearsal."

Remus nodded. He should have told them straight away really…

"You should have told us right away," said Sirius, as if he were suddenly telepathic. "You know we'd never let you face this alone."

Remus smiled wryly.

"Thanks, guys."

"I'll just go check if the coast's cle- oh bugger!" cried James, smacking himself in the face with a force that made Remus and Sirius wince. "I'd forgotten – me and Padfoot have a detention with Sprout!"

"Oh fuck, I'd forgotten that," said Sirius, suddenly grumpy. It was really quite difficult to annoy the cheerful young Herbology Professor, but when you did, by Gods she let you know about it. "Looks like you're on your own tonight, mate."

"No worries," said James, "just hole up in here. We'll drop you some food after dinner and Peter'll be back in no time."

Remus nodded doubtfully; at least he'd be able to get some homework done, he supposed. He pulled out his Arithmancy essay and got to work, one ear on the door in case Eleanor decided to take slightly more drastic action; after all, he could always lock himself in the shower…

0o0o0o0

Eleanor was looking forward to a depressingly lonely evening; Lily was on Prefect duty, Peter at choir – his rehearsal looked to be a long one, what with the performance coming up soon – and James and Sirius had landed themselves a detention for a particularly interesting prank involving Professor Sprout's Tentacula plant. Eleanor sniggered to herself, it _had_ been quite funny; even so she was beginning to worry that her 'grace period' as James had called it, was running out. She would have to come up with something spectacular to get them back with, just in case.

This being a Saturday, Alice had a date with Frank – they kept glancing at one another throughout dinner and beaming, it was very sweet in a really quite sickening way. She flicked through her Astronomy textbook angrily; honestly, what right did anyone else have to a successful love life? But that was the thing about Frank and Alice, they were so nice that you couldn't begrudge them anything for long.

Since Remus _still_ wasn't talking to her, she was the only sixth year left in the tower, and was therefore desperately bored. She'd even asked Severus Snape if he'd wanted to go over the new Potions recipes with her, but he too had apparently had plans, though he'd neglected to mention what they were. She glared at the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. At least Snape had had the decency to apologise to her; in fact, he'd even looked like he'd rather be working on Potions with her than whatever else he was doing…

She turned her attention back to the composition of Saturn's rings; she'd managed to get half a scroll of parchment written before something soft and worryingly squeaky smacked her in the back of the head. Behind her a considerable amount of chaos was unfolding as a collection of students from the lower years (and therefore with considerably less homework) let off steam.

"Er – sorry," said the offending second year. "I meant to hit Anton…"

"Corin! Give Lottie back!" demanded a first year girl, presumably his sister, who looked close to tears.

Eleanor reached under the desk and extracted a stunned looking pygmy puff from the tangle of parchment that was her schoolbag, and passed her back to her owner, who actually did burst into tears and ran off wailing in the direction of her dormitories. Her brother stared after her, probably not having intended to upset her quite so thoroughly.

Eleanor gave him a Look that could have peeled the skin off his face, and he ran for it. With one sixth year Prefect on duty and the other sulking in the dormitories, there was no way _anyone_ would get any work done (the fifth years being a bit more lax and the seventh years at their Astronomy class). She slammed her book shut. Something had to be done, even if it meant he never spoke to her again – at least people would be able to hear themselves think in the Common Room.

Clearing her work into her bag with a flick of her wand and banishing it to her dormitory, she stamped up the boys' stairs. Corin, who had decided to try to break into the girls' dormitory to apologise, came running down the corridor, took one look at Eleanor and ran back the way he came. She smirked; apparently she could be quite frightening when she chose to be.

_Well, good,_ she thought: _time to put it to good use_.

It was time for drastic measures – time her friends got to see the measure of her: pulling out her wand in case he made a run for it she banged insistently on the oak door; from somewhere inside came the sound of someone waking suddenly and immediately falling out of bed. She pushed the door open.

Remus was on the floor amidst an avalanche of books and rolls of parchment; he took one look at her, swore and bolted for the bathroom door, but Eleanor had expected this, and locked both it and the door behind her.

"_Colloportus_!"

Seeing that he was reaching for his wand, she removed it with a casual flick and caught it as it flew through the air towards her.

"Right," she said, "now that I have your attention…"

Remus backed against his bed in blind panic, as if staying further away from her would prevent her from progressing.

"H-hi Eleanor!" he said, far too brightly. "Nice weather we're having!"

"Remus -"

"Were you looking for Sirius?" he demanded, desperately. "He's got a detention, Peter said he did something unreasonable with a Tentacula – isn't that funny! Ha! Ha!"

"Rem–"

"Or if you're looking for Peter he's-"

_This isn't getting us anywhere_, she thought as he babbled miserably about rehearsals and Professor Flitwick's apparent fondness for arpeggios.

"_Silencio_."

He was so engrossed in his description of how Peter came to join the choir that he kept mouthing the words for several seconds after she'd cast the silencing charm, looking like an overgrown, humanoid goldfish. He gaped at her.

"As fascinating as all that is," said Eleanor coldly, "I came to speak to _you_, not your room mates. I know you've been avoiding me-"

He began to shake his head, but stopped when he saw her expression.

"-and I just wanted to tell you that there's no need. Since you seem so very determined not to interact with me, from today I promise to leave you alone."

Remus closed his mouth and sank back onto his bed; some things were simply inevitable. As much as he'd wanted to avoid this confrontation, he didn't like the thought of Eleanor staying away from him one bit…

"But first we need to settle a few things."

She saw the flash of panic cross his features, but he hid it rather well, all told.

"I know what you are," she announced, simply.

There it was, out in the open. No more hiding.

For nearly a minute he did his best to look politely confused, but under her steady and unflinching gaze his disguise crumbled; he closed his eyes in resignation, bowing his head and pointing at his mouth.

"_Finite incantatem_," she said, softly.

"What are you going to do?" he asked miserably, still not looking at her.

"Do? About you being a loup-garou? Nothing."

He looked at her confused, seizing on the more likely glimmer of hope.

"Loop guru? I'm not a-"

"'Loup-garou'; it's medieval French for werewolf."

"Oh."

"I think a loop-guru would be a perfectly normal person who has an insatiable urge to knit ferociously every full moon," she added, unable to help her mouth twisting into a half smile, and he shot her a look caught somewhere between fear and perplexity.

"Please don't tell anyone," he begged. "I don't want to leave the school – and I've never hurt anyone, I swear –"

"Remus-"

"Please Eleanor, I'll never even _sit_ near you again, I'm not a threat –"

With one stride she crossed the room and took his arms, holding him in place.

"I could destroy you with this," she said, calmly.

"_Please_," he begged, and gave a dry sob.

"So the only way that you'll trust me is if I give you the same opportunity." She leant down and whispered softly in his ear: "My mother's name is Violetta Buchardt." He stared at her in incomprehension as she pulled away from him. "Not even Dumbledore knows that. Now _you_ can destroy _me_."

She let him go.

"I…" he began, unable to form even the questions he needed to ask.

"I'm not going to tell anyone – I wouldn't do that to you – and my mother's name stands as my assurance to you on that."

"You – you don't hate me?" he asked, lost in wonder.

"No," she said gently, sitting down beside him. "Far from it. It's not _your_ fault you looked like an aperitif to some hungry scavenger all those year ago."

He gave her a half smile, still not quite believing anything she'd said.

"Although – a piece of advice: a pit-bull is _way_ too small to give you a bite like that – the Alsatian was a much better idea."

"I'll… keep that in mind… er, where did you get such a high opinion of were- of people like me, by the way?" apparently saying the word was a bit much for him; she didn't blame him.

"My housekeepers' nephew; he never hurt anyone either, has a family in Toulouse these days… I proof-read a book for him."

"He's an author?" Remus asked hopefully, employment being problematic for dark creatures.

"Yeah, you might have read it," she smiled knowingly. "'Hairy Snout, Human Heart' – but he's written quite a few now, under various pseudonyms."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then made a grab for his copy.

"It's _you_," he said, and it was Eleanor's turn to be confused. "Look-" he showed her the dedication. " 'To the little bird in her hidden nest, who helped me find the words' – you're the 'little bird', the wren!"

"That's me," she said, smiling at his excitement.

"I've always wondered…" His face fell; "Eleanor, I'm sorry I didn't tell you-"

"You didn't know you could trust me."

"I do now," he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face at last. She couldn't help it; she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Good… Well, I'd best leave you to it," she said, getting up.

"Er- you don't have to-"

"Yes I do, I promised to leave you alone."

"But I don't want you to," he said, following her. "I was just… I was afraid…"

"That I'd tell half of Hogwarts? I know you've not known me for long Remus, but really…"

"I couldn't be sure," he said, sadly, "and I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me…"

"You were wrong. Anyway I need to get on with some work…"

"Then I'll come with you," he said, gathering his fallen paperwork.

They walked together to the top of the Common Room stairs; the scene below was worse than when she'd left it; it looked rather more like a war-zone than a living room. There were students hurling charms at one another all across the room and charred papers spread across every surface.

"Sweet Merlin…" Remus said, softly, surveying the carnage.

"Ah, yes, that was the other reason I needed to talk to you. Gryffindor needs its Prefect back."

"And James and Sirius are nowhere in sight… they'll be really disappointed they missed this." He cleared his throat and raised his wand. "Is your stuff down there? No? Good. Step back a moment, Eleanor? Thanks. _AGUAMENTI MAXIMUS_!" he shouted, and the Common Room was doused in quite a large quantity of water.

The outraged students below looked around for their attacker, realised that he was A: a Prefect and B: not amused, and immediately began shifting about, looking sheepish; it was all Eleanor could do not to burst out laughing.

"Now," he said, in a reasonable tone. "I will refrain from mentioning this to my fellow Prefects, one of whom I assure you would be perfectly happy to strip us of every house point Gryffindor have earned so far this year, on the understanding that every person in this room cleans up this mess." He glanced at the large clock over the mantelpiece, pointedly ignoring their groans of displeasure. "I'd get a move on, if I were you, she'll be back in about an hour – you've got quite a bit of work to do."

He watched them look around at each other in dismay and start putting their Common Room back together, and said in an aside to Eleanor, "I'd suggest the Library, but I suspect that they'll do better if I'm still somewhere in the tower… do you want to retreat to the dorm's? The others won't be back for ages."

"Sounds like a plan," she smiled, and summoned her work bag. "We can work on those translations."

He grinned, and she noticed that it slid more up one side of his face than the other.

"If you lot can keep reasonably quiet for the next few hours, I'd appreciate it," he said to the Common Room at large. "You might try _Scourgify _and _Tergeo_," he added kindly, as they turned back up the passageway.

"You're too nice, you know," Eleanor told him, conversationally.

"Most of them were just taking cover behind the furniture," he pointed out. "Besides, Lily's the mean one, I'm the nice one, it works."

Eleanor nodded, trying to ignore the little twist in her stomach that that statement caused.

"That was pretty awesome, by the way," she said instead, and he grinned that lopsided grin and she wished really hard that she didn't know that he'd kissed Lily back.

"Madame Buchardt, _really?_" he asked her, as they spread out their work. "I can imagine how an ill-timed affair might prove… problematic."

"Indeed," said Eleanor, wryly. "Though I don't think she blames me for it – I'm lucky in that respect…" she said, settling down beside Remus on the floor.

He smiled warmly at her.

"Why would she?"

_Very lucky_.

0o0o0o0

It was nearly one in the morning when Sirius and James got back from the greenhouses, muddy and exhausted; to their surprise, Peter was waiting for them.

"You know that message you sent me in rehearsal that we really needed to talk about Remus?" he asked, and they froze. "Was it that we had to keep Eleanor away from him, by any chance?"

For some reason he was smirking.

"Why?"

"He's afraid she knows," said Sirius quietly, "we need to-"

"Oh, she knows alright," said Peter, grinning broadly. "They've been making really bad lycanthropy jokes for the last two hours."

"They- _what?_"

"Come on, I'll show you," he said, leading them towards the dormitories.

Remus and Eleanor were lying on their fronts on the floor between his and Sirius's beds, homework spread out (and largely ignored) in front of them, roaring with laughter.

"-and then she turned to look at him and said:" – and here Eleanor put on a very stern tone " 'Did you wish _really_ hard?'"

Both of them collapsed into gales of laughter, Remus rolling onto his back and clutching his sides.

"Did he even _know_?"

"No! We never told him!" she replied, sending them into a fresh fit of giggles

"See?" said Peter. "I went downstairs to get a bit of peace and quiet…" he nudged James in the ribs and whispered. "I think he fancies her."

James stared at him; Sirius spluttered at his friends on the floor.

"But- I thought-"

"Oh, hi guys," said Eleanor, grinning up at them. "How was detention?"

"Er- muddy as hell," said James, staring at her. "Remus, are you alright?"

"I'm fine Prongs," he grinned. "Bit of an epic fail on the keeping-Eleanor-away-from-me-front, by the way, but everything's fine now."

"Er- good," said James, flabbergasted.

"She knows," said Remus, and Sirius sat down heavily on his bed.

"And everything's ok?" he asked weakly, still at a bit of a loss.

"Yes," said Remus happily, and beamed at Eleanor, who shook her head.

"Oh. Er… we'd better go shower then," said James, steering his friend towards the bathroom.

"I should probably get to bed, actually," said Eleanor, kneeling to gather her work. "And let you get some peace Peter, sorry."

"It's no trouble," said Peter happily, "so long as you two are talking again."

"I'll walk you," said Remus, even though they were practically next door.

Back in the common room, he thanked her again for being so understanding; Eleanor waved his gratitude away, however.

"Not everyone's born to be a bastard," she said, and frowned. "By the way, I think Lily and Alice know…"

Remus's face fell so abruptly that she grasped his arm.

"Remus, think about it, this is Lily and Alice we're talking about. They're not going to tell anyone. Probably not even Frank – they were trying to keep it from me, too."

He smiled wanly.

"Yesterday I wouldn't even have thought someone other than those idiots would keep my secret… I'll talk to them."

"Good. Er- Remus?" she asked, as he turned to go. "Do I ever want to know what part of James's anatomy 'Prongs' refers to?"

Remus snorted.

"Probably not," he said, and departed, still chuckling.

"That's what I thought," she said, and began to climb her own stairs.


	6. Third Aside, The Plot Thickens

"What's bonfire night?" asked James, as they walked down the main staircase, wrapped in coats and scarves and woolly hats.

"Honestly, Potter, don't you ever listen?" Lily demanded, exasperated, a few steps behind him. "Dumbledore was talking about it for a whole ten minutes this morning."

"Yeah well, I couldn't concentrate, could I, I was too busy trying to figure out why Peter was on fire and how we could stop it," he huffed, grumpily.

It had been a day where nothing wanted to go right for anyone; Peter catching fire at breakfast had only been the start of a very long day of broken quills, spilled ink, lost homework, frustrated research and frayed tempers. They made rather a surly and tired collective that evening, and the other Gryffindors were giving them a wide berth. By the time they'd finished dinner and collected their outdoor clothes from the dormitories every single one of them had fallen out with everyone else at least once; in fact, Sirius and Alice hadn't spoken to one another since lunchtime, when a complete misunderstanding had led to the usually mild-mannered Gryffindor slapping Sirius in the face so hard that he'd fallen over the bench and smacked his head on the Ravenclaw table.

The only people who still appeared to be getting on were Eleanor and Peter, who had had all day to apologise and calm down – Peter's sudden combustion had been more or less her fault (she'd been practicing a particularly tricky charm and had miscalculated).

"It's a Muggle thing," said Peter, whose father was a Muggle, and who had been rather looking forward to attending the bonfire. "It's good fun."

"It's from a time of civil unrest in the Muggle world," said Lily, still annoyed with James. "The short version is that a group of revolutionaries tried to blow up the King in the Houses of Parliament –"

"Like the Ministry," said Remus wearily, before Sirius had a chance to ask.

"- and entirely failed. So it's a celebration of the continuation of a corrupt system of administration," finished Lily.

"Or a celebration of a small group of people failing to murder quite a lot of people," said Peter, rolling his eyes at her back. "I've never agreed with burning 'Guys' though. That's a bit creepy."

"Guys?" asked Eleanor, amused. "Does this mean one of the boys isn't coming home tonight?"

Lily laughed.

"Guy Fawkes was one of the conspirators – he was the one who got caught –"

"Prat," said Sirius, under his breath.

"Unfortunately, we're stuck with all of this lot for a while longer," said Alice, dully. Sirius scowled at her.

"So," began Eleanor dubiously as they reached the Entrance Hall, "we're going to watch a dummy of someone who was executed hundreds of years ago thrown on a fire?"

"I can't wait," said Remus, glumly.

Peter grimaced.

"It sounds awful when you put it like that. No, what bonfire night means these days is toffee apples, and candy floss, and chipping your teeth on bonfire toffee, and seeing your breath steam in front of you, standing around a massive bonfire with your _friends_," he said, pointedly. "And watching fireworks."

"And sparklers," added Lily, cheering up a little. "If you're careful, you can write your name in the air with them."

"We can do that any day with a wand," Sirius pointed out, sulkily.

"Yes, but with sparklers it's special – I hope Dumbledore thought to get some."

Peter's eagerness seemed to have brightened everyone up somewhat.

"What's candyfloss?" asked Alice, intrigued.

"It's like a cloud of pink sugar on a stick," said Peter, eagerly.

Remus dropped back to walk with Eleanor as Peter enthusiastically described the culinary treats in store for them.

"I remember my Granddad taking me to a bonfire party when I was little, do you have bonfire night in France?" he asked.

"Not in November," she said. "There's a big fireworks night in April – the continental version of April Fools' Day, we get sparklers then. Anyway, I don't really know that much about French customs – the Alps can be quite a different place."

"I've often wondered… you don't have much of an accent."

"My housekeepers spoke English around me – I think my mother must have attended Hogwarts, she has a lot of contacts over here. Most of my tutors have been British too – I suppose it was to reduce the risk of anyone recognising who I was."

Remus nodded; he could well imagine how being the illegitimate daughter of Madame Buchardt would be problematic at times.

They had joined a steady stream of students heading down into the grounds; in the distance the fierce glow of an impressive bonfire was lighting the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Evening!" called Frank, joining them. "Looks like tonight will be brilliant – fair warning though, I brought my camera."

Several people, Remus included, groaned.

"What's wrong with that?" Eleanor asked as she followed the procession across the incredibly long, rickety wooden bridge that connected the Castle to the grounds.

"He always takes pictures when you're least expecting them," explained Remus.

"They're the best kind," said Frank, with a grin.

"For _you_ – I don't particularly enjoy having me looking like a prat immortalised on paper."

"Oh _relax_ Remus, the worst one of you I have is that time James fell out of a tree and you starting yelling at him…"

"I still look a prat," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"He looked exactly the way McGonagall does when we blow something up," said Peter. "It was _brilliant_… I could show you if you like – Frank always makes copies."

Remus shot him a dark look, but Peter ignored him. Tonight was going to be great, he could just _feel_ it.

They'd reached the crest of the hill overlooking the lake now, and several people gasped, bad moods forgotten. On the shore of the Black Lake Hagrid had built an enormous bonfire, around which people were chattering excitedly; tantalising smells were drifting up from a variety of stalls on the forest's edge. Dumbledore appeared to have provided every type of portable Muggle snack food he could think of: there were bags of shiny, black cinder toffee, boxes of popcorn, slabs of dark gingery chocolate, eight different flavours of toffee apples, ice-cream, sweets and lollipops of ever colour – some that were as big as their faces… and –

"Candy floss!" said Peter, pointing at a stall full of pink fluff and hurrying over to it.

Laughing, they followed him, Frank taking pictures of unsuspecting passers-by and temporarily blinding them with the flash.

Eleanor helped herself to one of everything she could find, stuffing the lot into one of the magical pouches Professor Flitwick was handing out at the beginning of the line. Everything smelled deliciously of frost and wood smoke, which was curling in every direction through the cold November air.

Candy floss appeared to be the flavour of the moment, however, the majority of students never having encountered it before. Remus couldn't believe that anything that looked that insubstantial could turn out to be crunchy as soon as you started to eat it – or tried to. Alice kept bursting into giggles every time she tried to take a bite – she just couldn't get her mouth open wide enough; Frank eventually took pity on her and pulled a clump of it off the stick, which led to a excruciatingly cute episode where he fed his girlfriend in the middle of the group. Remus had decided to take revenge at this point and summoned Frank's camera, taking a shot at just the right moment. Frank grinned at him.

"See, I told you it was fun."

"This is _brilliant_," said James, from somewhere inside his candy floss.

Lily rolled her eyes, but her tone was a lot gentler than usual when she said: "Don't eat it too quickly James, you'll make yourself sick."

James, all too happy to comply with instructions that made Lily say his first name, withdrew from the pink, edible cloud obediently, and frowned.

"What am I supposed to do with it then?" he asked, staring at the spun sugar dubiously. "If I hang on to it I'll drop it somewhere – or Padfoot will eat it," he said, as slightly sugar dazed Sirius went back for his third helping. "But if I put it in the bag it'll get _everywhere_."

"You do this," Lily said, taking out her wand and charming the candy floss so that it crystallised. "Muggle traditions are all very well, but there are times when magic makes them better."

"That was ace," said James, grinning at her, and for once Lily took the compliment as it was intended, and blushed.

"Thanks," she said, before the others pressed her into teaching them the charm.

"This stuff is like crack for kids," said Sirius, pupils a little dilated. "Look, you can even make faces with it!" He pulled off several chunks of candy floss and stuck them to his lip, chin and eyebrows. "See! Now I'm Professor Dumbledore!"

Everyone roared with laughter as he posed for Frank to take a picture.

"Very dashing, Mr Black," said Professor Dumbledore, coming up behind him. "Mr Longbottom, perhaps a photograph of myself and my doppelganger?"

Eleanor glanced at Professor McGonagall, who was giving her headmaster an amused and exasperated look and quickly had to look away. Beside her, Remus was slowly turning purple from trying not to laugh, and Lily had Peter's arm in a death-grip so that she didn't crack.

They managed to keep it together just long enough to hear McGonagall lightly telling Dumbledore that she didn't remember him having light pink hair when he was younger as they moved away.

It was rather a long time before anyone could breathe properly.

The fireworks, which had been set up on a floating dais some way into the lake (Eleanor suspected that this was largely due to James and Sirius's presence) were beyond spectacular, and lasted for nearly an hour. They stood in small groups around the lake, eyes dazzled by the lights and colours splashing across the November sky, bottles of butterbeer that James and Remus had produced from Merlin-knew-where keeping off the chill night air.

Watching things fizz and sparkle and explode above her, pressed between the warm bodies of Sirius (who had by this point given up trying to pick the remains of candy floss out of his eyebrows) and Remus, Eleanor felt a sense of peace creep over her. She'd not felt this at home in her own skin since she'd snuck out of the chalet one moonlit summer evening a few months previously and swum naked in the lake in the valley below; it had been like swimming through liquid silver, and she'd revelled in the sensation with no one but the moon keeping her company.

As everyone shuffled about, a little disappointed that the fireworks were over, Lily gave a cry of excitement: Professors Kettleburn and Castaway were distributing short, slender sticks, along with tiny floating jars of bluebell flames.

"There you are," said Professor Castaway, when he reached them. "They've got lengthening charms on them, so they should last for about five minutes…"

Everyone looked expectantly at Lily, who was holding her sparkler by the dull end and carefully dipped it into the flame; it burst into life at once with eye-aching brightness and she immediately began swishing it about in the air, leaving a trail of light behind it.

Frank took a picture of her as she wrote her name in the air; soon the night air was filled with laughter, peoples' names, Frank's camera shutters and, inevitably, a wide variety of rude words. As Sirius so eruditely put it: "Sparklers are like magic, but not!"

When the last sparkler had eventually sputtered out and the last food stall had been raided, they stumbled back up the hill. It had been such a good evening after such an appalling day that none of them wanted to end, and they all relocated to the boys' dormitory, kidnapping Frank as they went. It didn't take long for the girls to throw off their winter clothes and pull on their pyjamas; they dragged their bedding with them, startling a group of fourth year boys, who stood and stared at easily the most ferocious Prefect Hogwarts had ever seen.

Lily gave them a Look, shrugged and then said: "As long as you're quiet, you can consider me 'off duty' tonight."

Eleanor glimpsed them knocking on the other dormitories as she closed the door; it seemed that Gryffindor tower was going to have the night of its occupants' lives. She put a silencing charm on the door, just in case; Sirius saw her and gave her the kind of smile that had most of the women of the school panting in his wake. She left him to it and plonked herself down with Lily on the floor in the midst of the newly created cushions.

Not one to be defied, Sirius sat down right beside her.

"I think we should play a game," he said, with a wicked grin. Peter groaned and James stopped mid stride.

"No," he said.

"Why not?" Sirius whined.

"Because there are _ladies_ present," he hissed, his expression indicating that any game Sirius suggested would be a bad idea in front of Lily.

"Oh, come _on_," he wheedled. "Just a friendly game of truth or dare – I'll behave, I promise."

Everyone looked at Lily, who rolled her eyes.

"Alright, but nothing we could get arrested for, nothing anyone will regret for the rest of their lives –" both Remus and Peter sighed in relief at this "- and in the interest of maintaining the reputations of those of us who have them, nothing that involves leaving this room."

"Deal!" cried Sirius happily. "Alright, we'll go round in a circle – I'll start. Dare."

0o0o0o0

_It had certainly been an interesting night_, reflected Peter foggily, as he tried to remember why he'd fallen asleep in Sirius's bed, and why in the name of Hecate he was wearing a feather boa. He peered around the room and sniggered as quietly as he could; there would be several people regretting both the evening's frivolities and precisely where they went to sleep… or more precisely, with _whom_.

Carefully, putting a silencing charm in place, he threw a screwed up ball of parchment at Frank, who rolled over and stared at him in indignant confusion; Peter nodded at Lily, who had fallen asleep with her head resting on James's chest, and the Marauder sandwich in the corner. Frank grinned with all the mischief of a Marauder and woke his girlfriend, as Peter removed the silencing charm.

They had a painful few seconds as they worked out how to silence the camera without messing up any of the mechanisms; finally, Frank stole up to James and Lily and took a few illicit pictures before turning to inflict the same upon the others.

Eleanor and Remus had fallen asleep reasonably close to one another, Peter recalled, but at some point in the night she had rolled towards him, and now Remus's arm was draped over her hip, her head turned into the warmth of his chest. This would have been gold dust enough for _years_ of taunting, had the unconscious Sirius not decided to complicate matters further by also rolling over in his sleep – and now _his_ hand was curled possessively around Eleanor's waist, his face buried in her neck.

It looked for all the world like the two Marauders were engaged in a silent and unconscious tug of war for the slumbering girl squashed between them; months later, Peter wondered why they hadn't seen it there and then. Photographs taken and camera hidden, they woke Lily and James as quietly as they could – a task made harder by the mixture of shock, embarrassment and sheer delight they both felt – to have a good snigger at their friends.

Eleanor was the first to stir, hearing Alice's muffled giggles, and she looked in confusion first at one boy and then the other; she blushed and bit her lip, glancing up at her five tormentors. Then, with the speed of pouring treacle a devilish grin spilled across her face; slowly, and to her watching friends' amusement, she carefully wriggled out from between the two sleeping boys and sat on her haunches. Missing her warmth, Sirius snuggled forward into his best friend's arms; Remus pulled him closer possessively.

This was all too much for Eleanor, who snorted; Remus cracked an eye first, and was astonished to discover his best friend pressed up against his face – he stared at him in utter disbelief as Sirius too woke up. There was one of those moments upon which the universe turns; those watching felt that in the next breath anything at all could happen and when it did the world would be an entirely different place.

Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended: both boys gave identical shouts of surprise and disgust, and scrambled apart as their friends roared with laughter.

0o0o0o0

Two nights later, as the girls relaxed in their tower, there were a series of screams outside their door.

Eleanor shot out of bed.

"What the fuck was that?" she demanded, wand already in hand.

"Oh it's probably just the boys," said Alice, not even looking up from her book; Lily glared at the door as if they would be able to tell.

"The boys screaming like girls?"

"They aren't what I'd describe as particularly manly," said Lily.

"The stairs to the girls' dormitories are enchanted to reject anyone male – probably on the basis that we have considerably more sense than them," explained Alice. "Generally when the boys get bored they dare each other to try to get in and steal various items of clothing."

Outside, someone gave a shout of exasperation; Alice put her head on one side, and said: "Sirius."

"What's their success rate?" asked Eleanor as the girls listened to someone – presumably James – scrambling up the slope; the noise ended abruptly with a loud "Ooof!"

"Not great," Lily smirked. "None of them have ever managed it. Remus of course is much too sensible to join in."

"Only because he bruised his coccyx in third year," snorted Alice.

There was a knock at the door; they stared at it. Their visitor knocked again, and Eleanor went to open it.

"You were saying?" she asked, admitting Remus Lupin; both Alice and Lily's mouths hung open in surprise.

"Good evening ladies," he said politely. "In case you're wondering, it's a variant of the _Glisseo_ charm… er… I'm afraid I'm not allowed to leave empty-handed," and he blushed. It was quite adorable. "I'm supposed to relieve one of you of your, well… undergarments."

_Aaand suddenly less adorable_, thought Eleanor.

"You're such a pushover, Remus," said Alice, fondly.

"Don't think for a moment that I won't take points from a fellow Prefect," said Lily, sternly.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he said, smiling through his blush. "Alice?"

"You know I'd do pretty much anything for you Remus," said Alice, turning even redder than he had. "But really, what would Frank say?"

It took quite a bit of effort for him to turn back to Eleanor.

"Really?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so…"

"What will happen if you don't get them?"

"I believe the penalty for failure was to sneak into Filch's office and do something unspeakable to Marilyn…"

"Marilyn?"

"Er – his cat."

"Eurgh."

"Yes…" Remus's blush was deepening steadily from vermillion to crimson.

"Oh, _fine_," she said, turning to her cupboard. Alice giggled.

"Don't do it," said Lily, from between her fingers.

"Are you going to take points?" asked Eleanor, grabbing a pair of underwear at random.

"…No, I think whatever Filch would do if anyone hurt Marilyn would be worse…"

Eleanor walked back to him, with a matching flush, and held out her hand; hesitating, she frowned.

"Will Sirius get a hold of these?"

"I hate to say it, but it's pretty likely…"

"Urgh," she shuddered, and his smile widened a fraction.

"Will they leave the tower? Or be seen by anyone outside your dormitory?"

"On that you have my word."

Eleanor grimaced.

"You owe me."

"I certainly do."

Remus took the proffered garment and left with all the dignity he could muster, which wasn't a huge amount, all things considered.

From down the stairs came a series of excited whoops.

"What have I done?" she asked, of the world at large.

0o0o0o0

The sounds of delight had been continuing for nearly an hour and a half and Eleanor had had enough of gritting her teeth.

"That's _it_! I'm going to get them back."

"Knock yourself out," said Lily.

"You're not going to help?"

"I'll help," said Alice, sitting up.

"No, you won't," said Lily, firmly. "You got yourself into this Eleanor, you get yourself out of it."

Eleanor glanced between her friends.

"I'm going to stay here and read, apparently," said Alice, with an apologetic shrug.

"Urgh. _Fine._"

She grabbed her wand and went to knock on their dormitory door; however, the noise within stopped her in her tracks – she pushed the door open a crack.

Sirius was singing loudly and dancing around the dormitory with her… _undergarments_; James and Peter were laughing so hard that they were crying. Remus however, was sat on his bed with his hands over his face; he must have glimpsed her moving by the door, she could see him looking up at her from between his fingers. Putting her finger to her lips she edged into the room; Remus didn't move, apparently feeling that he had to make up for his part in this.

Deciding that she needed to take out the boys in case they intervened, she sent two well aimed _stupefy_s at Peter and James, before turning her attention to Sirius; he looked between her and his friends and bolted, knocking her over as he sped past. Aware that he still had her underwear in hand, she followed him out of the portrait hole, hot on his heels. It felt like they were running forever; every chance she had to hex him misfired as he skidded this way and that along the corridors, barking with laughter. She was learning the hard way why he made such a good Quidditch player.

Finally, he made a wrong turn and skidded, still hooting with mirth, into an empty classroom, giving her the seconds she needed to petrify him.

From his position on the ground he glared at her as she stooped and reclaimed her clothing.

"All he had to do was return with them, you never said how long you'd get to keep them for," she said, and walked off, feeling rather superior. This, as it turned out, was rather foolish. She was nearly at the door when he petrified her.

It was a curious feeling, to be unable to move and to know with absolute clarity where her attacker was, and precisely how much control he now had over her; even though she was aware that this was all a joke, the feeling terrified Eleanor. What if it wasn't Sirius she'd chased, what if it had been someone else? Somewhere deep inside her chest she felt the frightened stirrings of panic. Sirius put a hand on her back.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you, Miss Wren," he was saying, though it seemed to Eleanor that his voice was coming from a long way away. "I'll take those, I think," he said, opening her hand. "They really are quite attractive – not a bad mental image," he continued huskily, as he walked around her; "I'm surprised you let Moony have them – actually, I'm surprised he took them… our Moony's a bit shy when it comes to girls, particularly girls as buxom as you."

She couldn't move anything at all, she realised, not even her eyes; the panic blossoming through her chest was making her heart pound.

"If _I_ were a girl with knickers as lovely as this," he said breathily, right next to her ear, unaware of the terror flooding through her. "I wouldn't wear them for just anyone…"

_This must be what it feels like to die_, she thought.

He came into view wearing his trademark evil grin and looked her in the eye; he faltered – suddenly everything was a lot less funny.

A little known fact about the full body-bind, dear readers: even if you can't move or struggle or cry out, you can still feel. And weep.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, as he stared dumbfounded at her tear streaked face. "_Finite incantatem_! Eleanor –" he reached for her as she stumbled, released from her silent prison, and she beat her fists against his chest as he held her.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" he cried in alarm, wrestling with her. "It was just a joke! Please -" he held her arms fast. "Eleanor! Ellie –"

Finally, her adrenaline ebbing, she stopped fighting and sobbed into his chest. They sank to the floor, Sirius too bewildered to hold her up and Eleanor too relieved to care.

"Shh – it's ok love, it's ok –"

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again Sirius, _please,_" she cried, clinging to him.

"I won't love, I won't let anyone do it, I swear." He rubbed her back. "I didn't mean to scare you like that, I'm sorry."

"S'ok," she sniffed. "I did it to you… I've just never had it done to me b-before… it was like d-dying…"

"It's over now, and it'll never happen again," he said, tightening his hold on her. The certainty in his voice helped somewhat, and after a few minutes they broke apart and sat on the floor beside each other, their backs to the cold stone wall. It was a while before either spoke.

"I'm sorry," said Sirius, and she could tell by his tone that he meant it.

"I know," she said, and another few minutes passed.

"Do you think I could have my knickers back?"

"Yeah, sorry," he said, handing them back almost coyly; it was strange what a fright like that could do to a person. He _was_ still Sirius Black, though: "Damned sexy, those," he reflected, and Eleanor blushed.

"They're one of my best pairs…"

"You mean there are better ones?" he goggled at her in the darkness. "Merlin, it's hard enough getting the image of you wearing _those_ out of my head…"

Eleanor giggled, despite herself.

"What knickers are you wearing now, by the way?"

Eleanor hit him.

"Sorry."

Time passed, and the starlight spilling out of the windows shone on their feet.

"None."

"Eh?"

"I'm not wearing any – I tend to skip underwear when I'm wearing pyjamas."

"Oh." Then: "That's actually even harder to not think about, love."

She sighed.

"You do know that I'm _never_ going to sleep with you, don't you?"

"Never stopped me before."

"That's what I was afraid of…"

"But I'll accept it, if you want," he said, softly.

"Really?" Eleanor asked, startled. "Why?"

"Because I like you," he said, then caught her expression. "No, not like that. You're smart and funny and gorgeous and slightly evil – it_ is_ what I normally go for in a girl, but I have to believe a man can change… I never thought I'd say this to anyone, but I like you too much as a friend to risk losing you."

Eleanor was flattered to say the least.

"Has't come to this?" she asked, in the style of one of her favourite plays. "The great Sirius Black laid low by a woman?"

"By life, love, not by you. Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't let on to anyone – I have my appalling reputation to maintain, after all."

"Let me get this straight," she said. "You get to keep flirting with me and harassing me, but both of us know you won't touch me?"

"Yep, and _you_ get protection from anyone you don't want sniffing around you or stealing your drawers…"

"…I think I can live with that," she said, after a few minutes careful consideration.

He walked her back to the dormitories.

"My lady," he said, and kissed her hand.

"You can stop being dashing, we don't have an audience, you know."

"_I_ don't need one love," he said with a wink and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek before running back up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

They'd been gone for quite some time and the other Marauders were already in bed; he pulled off his dishevelled clothes and climbed gratefully into his bed: he'd seldom met someone who could keep up with him as easily as Eleanor, and he was tired – it wasn't long before his snores joined those of James and Peter.

If he'd been paying attention he'd have noticed that Remus wasn't asleep at all.

0o0o0o0

By now, the mists of autumn had hung themselves decoratively about the grounds and there was a shiver of excitement among the student body, though Eleanor was loath to admit she had no idea why. Everything came clear on Monday morning however, when she reached the Common Room to discover practically the whole tower chattering excitedly around the notice-board. Having no conceivable means of reading whatever it was that had her fellow Gryffindors in a spin, she had been about to turn to go when Remus appeared at her shoulder.

"What's all the fuss about?" he asked.

"No idea – I'm too short to see and not interested enough to fight my way through…"

He chuckled at her and peered over the heads of the people in front of him.

"Ah – the Autumn gala…" he said, as if this explained everything.

"Autumn gala?" she asked, as they gave up and set off for the Great Hall.

"It's a charity thing – the seventh years perform a play or musical to the rest of the school and paying members of the public. All the proceeds go to a charity of their choice; I think it's one of Kettleburn's this year, something to do with rare magical creatures. That's where Peter keeps running off to all the time – the choir usually have a few bits. Apparently he has a solo, he was quite excited about that." He shrugged, "Basically, it's an excuse to have a fancy meal and watch some potentially hilarious entertainment."

"Potentially hilarious?"

"This year's play is 'Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds' by Malecrit, easily the worst playwright in history – it could be good, but it's more likely to be appalling."

"Yes," said Eleanor, wincing. "I remember. 'Alas, I have Transfigured my Feet' was one of my literacy tutor's _favourite_ examples of how not to write a play."

"Well, you'll get to hear it again in a fortnight."

"I am overflowing with unalloyed delight."

Remus snorted.

"It also means that we get to spend the next two weeks watching everyone trying not to be asked out by everyone else."

"Oh Gods, it's not a 'date' thing is it?"

"Unfortunately," he confirmed. "But it might not be as bad this year."

"Why?"

"Oh, no reason…" he said thoughtfully, watching her descend the stairs in front of him.

News was spreading quickly through the Great Hall, and by the time they'd reached the Gryffindor table, Frank had already swept over and presented Alice with a bunch of conjured roses.

"Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the gala Miss Roberts?" he asked, bowing so deeply that he nearly fell over.

"You know I will, Frank, stop being daft…"

"Lilyfl-"

"Don't even think about it."

"But –"

"_No_."

Remus grinned across the table at Eleanor, who rolled her eyes. _She looks so beautiful this morning…_ he thought.

"El-" he began, but someone cut across him, and the breath caught in his throat.

"Miss Wren?" asked Sirius, taking her hand. "Would you accompany me to this year's gala?"

Eleanor appeared to consider this – it wasn't that unexpected, given their recent arrangement.

"Alright, but you look up my skirt or down my top and I'll hex you so far into the future you'll be babysitting Peter's great-grandchildren."

Remus sat perfectly still; it felt like all the air had been punched out of him... were there no lines Sirius wouldn't cross?

"I thought you had more sense than that," said Lily, sadly, but Eleanor nodded across at the Slytherin table.

"Mulciber and his Troll-bred friends have been ogling me for the last twenty minutes, I'll take what I can get."

"Oh, cheers," said Sirius, but he still couldn't stop himself grinning as he sat down.

"Now what am I going to do?" asked Lily, unhappily. "I was going to ask if _we_ could go together as friends."

Eleanor winced.

"No backsies?" she asked Sirius, who shook his head, still grinning. "Thought not. Sorry Lily, you'll just have to find another chaperone."

"I'll go w-"

"_No_, Potter. Not until hell freezes over."

"I'll go with you," Remus heard himself say; he glanced at Eleanor, but her expression was unreadable. James glared at him.

"Now wait just a minute –"

"As friends – Mulciber's staring at you too."

Lily glanced behind her and the great hulk of a Slytherin gave her what he considered to be a winning smile.

"You're on."

There was a brief silence in which everyone looked at James.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to breakfast on Remus's insides?" asked Frank, conversationally.

"No, he said they were going as friends – and someone has to keep Mulciber and his horde of creeps away from her. Besides," he said, and there was just enough warning in his voice for Remus to understand him completely, "I trust him."

As often as he'd tried to reassure his friend that he'd not instigated it, James had never quite gotten over the time he'd caught Remus snogging Lily in the library; that had _not_ been a good day in the lives of the Marauders.

"Pete and me'll go together as mates, right Wormy?" he said, as Peter sat down.

"Er- sorry mate, but I don't swing that way," he said with a grin. "Anyway, I can't – I just asked Claire Pollard…"

"Don't tell me I'm the only one without a date," moaned James.

"You have an ego the size of a planet, Potter," said Lily coolly. "All you have to do is wait and some bimbo will get sucked in."


	7. Malecrit, or Rules for Best Friends

Remus, who had been ready for nearly an hour, was reading in one of the big squashy armchairs in the Common Room; well, it _looked _like he was reading. What he was actually doing was sulking. He'd been so sure that he had a chance with Eleanor, and Gods but he'd wanted that chance, but Mr. Big Mouth, perfect, Casanova, _fucking_ Black had ruined it for him. Again.

The bastard had had nearly every girl in the school – was it too much to ask to just let him have one girl to himself? The worst of it was, he thought that Sirius might just have fallen for her… he'd never been so restrained around a girl in his life. Oh, he flirted outrageously with her at every given opportunity – and to Remus's frustration she was beginning to flirt back – but he hadn't tried to ogle her indecently, or pull her away from the group as he normally did… and that bothered him.

He couldn't pretend that Sirius had ever been particularly lonely when it came to women (or men, for that matter), but he'd never stayed with any one girl long enough for Remus to class them as 'together'; he wanted his best friend to be happy, he really did. But _why_ did it have to be with a girl who made Remus want to throw caution to the wind, hustle her into the nearest empty classroom and have his wicked way with her, right there on one of the desks? It was infuriating.

And then there was Lily. Or, more accurately, _James_. Despite his many assurances, James had spent the better part of the last two weeks alternating between snapping at every little thing Remus did and sullen glaring silences; this had rather put off the girls who had intended to ask him to the gala. The only one who _hadn't_ been put off was an incredibly pretty but not incredibly bright Hufflepuff girl from the year below; the kind of girl you hoped had 'hidden depths'. Having met her, Remus was sad to reflect that not everyone did…

Still, she was pleasant enough, if you didn't stay within conversation range for too long, and keeping her attention was sufficient work for James to ignore him for a few hours a day, allowing him to creep off and get some work done without the feeling of some git's eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

A few months previously, Remus would have given anything to attend the gala with Lily – even just as friends – but now…

Why did everything have to be so _bloody_ complicated?

"Oh, there you are Moony," said Sirius, dressed to the nines. _How_ did he make it look so damned easy? "Wondered where you'd snuck off to…"

He sat on the sofa in front of the fire. Jealousy coiled in Remus's stomach like a snake.

"Look, I know you were just trying to help everyone out, but did you _have_ to ask Lily? He's insufferable just now."

"I think the way she saw it was Mulciber or me," said Remus, dully. "He's overreacting."

"True…" said Sirius, looking thoughtful. "And I wouldn't say anything, except that she _did_ kiss you that time – and you kissed her right back."

"She rather took me by surprise, Padfoot," he said, grumpily. "Besides, no one had ever kissed me before, it was a bit of a shock." _And not an unpleasant one_, he recalled, _until Prongs showed up_.

His friend looked at him.

"You know there's absolutely no reason a bloke like you shouldn't have a date every Saturday night. You get in your own way."

Briefly considering the merits of punching him, Remus decided that as infuriating as he was, Sirius was trying to be nice.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sirius shook his head, exasperated.

"Hey Wormtail," said Remus, firmly putting an end to the conversation. "Nervous?"

"A bit," he said, with a grimace. "But I know it back and front… James'll be down in a minute, we're going to meet Claire and Persephone."

"Nice one, by the way – asking Claire, I mean. She's a pleasant girl," said Remus, without a hint of jealousy. If anyone deserved to catch a break on the dating front, it was Peter.

"Yeah," said Sirius, brightening up. "Not bad at _all_. Never knew you had it in you," he teased.

Peter shrugged.

"Well wherever I got it, it wasn't from you," he smirked, as a sullen James joined their group.

They were a sorry looking lot, Remus reflected; two of them so torn up with jealousy that all they could do was snark at their rivals and one so caught out in love that his entire demeanour had changed. Only Peter had come off this term for the better, and while he wished his friend every success, he couldn't help the sting of envy as Wormtail smiled and joked.

"Well, don't you look handsome," said Alice brightly, ignoring the pained expressions on three of their faces. "Well, how do I look?" she asked, giving a little twirl.

For the first time in nearly a week, Remus smiled. Alice had outdone herself: in her dark blue dress and with flowers wound in her fair hair, she looked like a princess. Even just the sight of her smiling face lifted their spirits; Frank was in for a good night.

"Beautiful as ever," said Sirius, and kissed her knuckles as the others nodded emphatically. Even James had momentarily slipped out of his funk.

Alice blushed prettily.

"Are the others coming, or have they decided against gracing us with their presence?" asked Peter, amused.

"They're getting there," said Alice, rolling her eyes. "You know how Lily feels about balls – and Eleanor's never been to one before."

Remus nodded glumly; beside him, James gave a gasp of surprise.

Lily, too, had wound flowers into her hair, which she'd let fall down past her shoulders; her flowing, deep sea-green dress shimmered about her as she walked down the stairs towards them. A part of Remus that he really hated reflected that it didn't matter anymore how beautiful she looked…

She gave him a small smile as she reached them, and her subsequent expression told him that his answering smile was probably more like a grimace.

"You look stunning," he said, gallantly, and offered his arm.

Sirius nodded, approvingly.

"It's a good job Moony here volunteered to keep an eye on you, Evans, you'll break a few hearts this evening."

Despite herself, Lily blushed.

"Really?" she said, unbelieving. "I thought I looked clumsy… and foolish… I _hate_ formal balls," she said, quietly.

The denial with which this was met seemed to mollify her somewhat, and she smiled with a touch more confidence.

"You four brush up reasonably well," she remarked, and Remus noted with slight amusement that she was looking at James when she said it. "Especially you, Peter," she continued, catching herself. "You'll do Gryffindor proud tonight."

"Thanks…"

"Not speaking to me Potter?"

James, who hadn't taken his eyes off her since she left the dormitory, shrugged miserably.

"You look after her Moony, or I swear –" he hissed as she turned away, a little nonplussed.

But Remus wasn't listening. Eleanor might not have attended anything as formal as this before, but by Gods she knew how it was done. _Probably learned it from her mother_, he thought, absently. She hurried down towards them, not even caring how her deep russet dress accentuated the curves of her body, or how the violets and leaves twisted in her hair made her look like some kind of woodland goddess.

Unconsciously, Remus straightened up. He'd been just about to compliment her when Sirius walked forward, rather more dazedly than ever before, and took her hand.

"My lady," he said, giving her a small bow and kissing her lightly on the cheek, making what would have looked downright daft on anyone else look dashing. "You look truly enchanting this evening."

As Eleanor blushed prettily, Remus shook silently. Never before had he hated someone so completely as he currently hated Sirius. Never before had he wanted to knock his friend's hand out of the way and take what _should_ have been his, regardless of how Sirius felt about it. It didn't matter that they were best friends, and that Remus would die for him, all that mattered was that Eleanor – _his_ Eleanor – was taking Sirius's hand and laughing at his jokes and _kissing him on the cheek_.

He glanced at James, who still hadn't been able to tear his tortured gaze away from Lily, and empathised; of course James hadn't been overreacting when all Remus wanted to do was stab Sirius repeatedly with anything he could lay to hand.

As they walked out of the Common Room and began the descent to the Great Hall, Remus caught his arm.

"Prongs," James glared at him. "I swear to you on everything I am, I won't touch her – she's yours and always has been."

The ferocity of his expression must have got through to him, because he nodded.

"I know mate… but I can't help being jealous – I mean, if it were you watching the girl of your dreams walking off hand in hand with your best friend, how would you feel?"

Remus just looked at him, despondently.

"I am," he said softly.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

But James's eyes widened.

"You mean – Eleanor?"

Remus didn't say anything, but James knew him a bit too well.

"Merlin Remus, I'm sorry, I didn't realise… does Padfoot know?"

He gave a hollow laugh.

"I'm not sure it would matter, either way," he growled.

James shot him a troubled look.

"He wouldn't do that to you…"

"Nor would I you," Remus pointed out, angrily. "But all I've had for the last two weeks are daggers and snipes."

"Yeah, sorry about that…" James winced. "But, I mean, does she like you?"

"I don't know," he said bitterly. "You can't really wander up to your best friend's date and ask if she fancies you, can you."

"Well, why didn't you ask her?"

"I was going to – almost exactly at the same time as _he_ did."

"Shit, mate."

"Yeah."

0o0o0o0

By the time they'd reached the Great Hall, the boys had agreed to try to put their grievances aside, for the sake of everyone else, and they collected their dates as civilly as they could. Persephone, James's pretty Hufflepuff, was a veritable vision in powder pink; she kept squealing in excitement at anything everyone said… it made Remus's teeth hurt. Lily didn't appear to be getting on with her too well either – she kept glancing over at her and glaring every time she shrieked with laughter.

"She's making my eye twitch," Eleanor complained, sitting down next to him. "She sounds like a dyspeptic kettle."

Remus chuckled; he couldn't help it.

"I hope she doesn't keep doing that all through the play," she said, "or we may have to gag her."

"But you hate this play."

"There's only one thing worse than having to sit through a play you hate, and that's having to sit through a play you hate three seats away from a banshee."

Lily sniggered.

"We could always tell her that her make-up's run or something," she said, "that should get us a few seconds peace."

People began to settle down, and Sirius took his place on Eleanor's other side.

"Do you think if we killed her anyone would mind?" he asked, leaning over. He was far too close to Eleanor for Remus's liking.

"It would be a welcome distraction from Malecrit, at least," she said, with a half grin at Remus.

As the lights went down in the Great Hall he reflected that there _was_ something worse than sitting through a play you hate three seats away from a banshee, and that was sitting within touching distance of the girl you're madly in love with – and who has your best friend's arm draped lazily around her waist.

He growled under his breath.

The show was, as it turned out, not half bad; the seventh years had spent much of the previous term re-writing the play, and had managed to make it bearable at least. A large part of it was made up for by the choir, who were excellent; pretty much their whole row cheered and gave Peter a standing ovation for his solo – which was brilliant. He looked torn between embarrassment at his friends and pride. His date, Claire, was much more agreeable, and was quickly absorbed into the group as they meandered around the Great Hall, waiting for the chairs to be cleared away and the dancing to start.

Sirius swept Eleanor off almost immediately onto the dance floor, and James followed suit with Persephone, though with considerably less enthusiasm. Remus glared after them.

Claire and Peter wandered past them, oblivious to anyone else; Frank and Alice were already dancing.

"I don't suppose you want a turn about the boards?" he asked glumly, Lily gave him a Look.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Do you want to dance, or not?"

"Alright…"

0o0o0o0

It didn't take long for Lily to get fed up with him; as soon as the first dance was over she dragged him to the side of the Hall. Out of the corner of his eye he saw James's eyes following them, and managed to turn around long enough to acknowledge him before Lily cornered him.

"Look," she said, "whatever Potter's done to you -"

"James hasn't done anything," he said hotly, and Lily looked taken aback at his tone. "In fact he's being a great friend."

"Remus, what's got into you?"

"Nothing, I'm fi-"

"You're one of my very best friends, Remus, but if you lie to me one more time I _will_ hex you."

He looked at her sadly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Well that was blatantly obvious," she said. "I've never seen you this angry – or rude. What's going on? You can trust me…"

"I know I can," he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Can't you just leave it? It's personal…"

"I… I don't like seeing you this unhappy."

"I wouldn't like to see you feeling like this either."

"Well then."

Remus glanced out at the dancers and saw James piloting Persephone closer to Sirius and Eleanor, distracting his friend and making him trip. He smiled grimly. _Everything's fair in love and war_, he thought. _My turn._

"Alright," he said abruptly, turning back to her. "Imagine that I'm James."

"You're _James_," she said flatly.

"Yes, I've asked a girl to a dance that I really like as a friend, and I'm feeling guilty that I'm not taking proper care of her because I can't get my mind off the couple talking in the corner."

"Please don't make this about him."

"It's not, entirely. See this couple are his friends – his good friends; he's been best friends with _him_ since the first week they were in school together and he's loved _her_, with everything that he is, since the first time she smiled at him. And he really wants to feel happy for them, but he can't, because now there's this great big angry snake thing gnawing at the inside of his chest – and he knows, really, he has no right to feel like that because he knows she's not his… And that doesn't matter, because it's never going to stop hurting." He was nearly in tears and he knew that she could see it. "And now he's leaning in to whisper something in her ear, and it's all he can do not to just walk over there and drag him the _fuck_ away from her, because he has _no right_ to be that close –"

Lily was staring at him, but she kept glancing behind him – probably at James.

"So instead of walking over and killing his best friend, he's rude to the girl he's brought to the dance – even if she's one of his best friends too – he can't help it."

Somewhere behind him, Persephone gave a squeal that was a lot less excited; Lily couldn't move her eyes from James.

"So she gets annoyed because he's being rude, and she can't help noticing that his eyes are straying to someone else, someone she probably hasn't even noticed is the most beautiful woman in the room, and she storms off…"

There was the sound of a slap, followed by a shout of laughter behind him.

"But he hasn't got the heart to follow her because he knows he doesn't like her that much, and all he can do is look right back at that couple in the corner…"

With visible effort, Lily forced herself to look at him.

"We're not just talking about James, are we?" she asked, though she already knew the answer; he sighed, and looked out across the dance floor, where Sirius was whirling a delighted Eleanor around, oblivious to the plight of two of his best friends.

"Give him a chance, Lily. He might be the world's biggest prat half of the time, but nowhere on this earth will you find a man that loves you as ardently and completely as James Potter."

She nodded, as though they were discussing nothing more complex than a change in the weather, but Remus saw the acceptance in her face. She'd give him a chance… she'd never fully appreciated the strength of James's attachment to her before.

"But what about you?"

"I'll manage," he grimaced. "Go and dance with James."

"Not yet," she said, and he turned to her, surprised. "What kind of a catch would I be if I abandoned one of _my_ best friends when he's hurting? Wait here a moment."

She hurried over to James, and drew him to one side; from his shocked expression, Remus surmised she'd asked him to dance. She hurried back, trying not to smile.

"I knew you liked him, deep down."

"Well, everyone has problems," she said, but he saw a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there before. He was happy for them. "I've promised him the dance after next – this one, my dear, sweet Remus, is for _you_."

He allowed himself to be pulled out onto the dance floor after her.

"I don't know who she is," said Lily, as they waltzed about the Great Hall, "but take it from me, if she can't see how wonderful you are, then she's blind."

He gave a low chuckle that sounded to Lily a hell of a lot like a sob.

0o0o0o0

He watched them, from the sidelines, as he was used to doing, but this time, behind every smile, every splinter of happiness, it _hurt_. It hurt when Peter nearly fell over, taking Claire with him, both of them giggling happily; it hurt when Alice pulled Frank into a quiet corner of the hall for a kiss; it hurt when James and Lily, dancing together for the first time, kept going despite the end of the song, oblivious to it all. But nothing, _nothing_ came close to how much it hurt when Sirius and Eleanor swept past him, dancing and laughing.

He turned away, and came face to unexpected face with Severus Snape; he was wearing the same pained expression. For the first time in months, the boys looked at one another.

Remus glanced at Lily, whose hands had snuck up around James's neck.

"It's not worth it," Remus said, dully.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Beating yourself up about it – if she can't see you for the person you are, then she's not worth considering as a lover. You'll only get hurt."

He could feel Snape still staring at him as he left the Great Hall.

_I_ _should take my own advice and try to forget her,_ he thought, leaning on a balcony ledge. He sucked in the cool night air, it was chilly; it struck him that if he were to lean out a little further he'd be able to see nothing but stars below him. He wondered idly if he'd fall.

_Too late_, he thought, wryly. No, there was no way he could forget her… not while they were all living in each others' lives and rooms and pockets… he'd have to figure something out. Maybe he could find a quiet room to study away from them all… nowhere as public as the Library; he'd have to borrow the Map…

He closed his eyes; it was certainly good to be outside tonight – away from all the noise and people. He suspected that there would have been more people around if the weather wasn't so frosty, snogging in the undergrowth and generally misbehaving. If he'd been a better Prefect he might have done a cursory patrol of the area, but being who he was he decided to leave the quivering bushes he'd passed on his way out to their own devices.

"It's beautiful out here," said Eleanor, and he realised he'd been so engrossed in his thoughts he'd not even heard her approaching.

"Yes," he replied, glancing at her. She looked delightfully autumnal, like a wood nymph who'd lost her way and wandered into the warm Castle unawares.

_Think about something else_, his mind insisted, and he coughed.

"Here – I saw you heading out for some air and I thought I'd join you," she passed him a large goblet of what turned out to be wine. "I've not seen that much of you, these last couple of weeks."

That was true enough, he'd been doing a fairly sound job of avoiding _everyone_.

"Thanks… where did you get this?"

"Hmm? Oh, I just picked one up earlier automatically – I'm allowed a glass of wine with dinner at home from time to time, so it's nothing unusual – and by the time I felt the need of a refill, Professor McGonagall was tipsy enough that she didn't notice me making off with these two."

"Good for her," he smiled. As strict as their Head of House was, she had something of a reputation for getting merry at events such as these.

"I left her dancing with the Minister of Magic…"

"I hope Frank's taking pictures."

"He looked rather busy, actually," she grinned; she'd spotted him and Alice in a corner of the Hall, looking for all the world like two newlyweds.

"I'll bet," he said, raising an eyebrow; Eleanor giggled.

"I do believe I'm a little tipsy," she said, leaning on the balcony.

"You're better off with that than with the punch," he said. "Sirius usually spikes it." She didn't see his features darken at his best friend's name; she was too busy staring out at the aching beauty of the Grounds.

"Yes, I saw him do it – it looked pretty lethal."

They sipped their wine in silence for a few minutes.

"Where is he, by the way? I'd have thought he'd have come looking for you by now," he said, fighting to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Oh, he went off with some girl called Trixie…"

_WHAT?_ That was it, Sirius was going to _die_. Slowly and horribly. How _could_ he?

Remus swayed as if he'd been slapped and turned to stare at her in shock; she didn't seem particularly flustered. Somewhere deep in his chest, the snake that had been gnawing upon him paused in its work.

"He what?"

"He left with some seventh year called Trixie – the way they were pawing at one another they're probably locked up in a broom cupboard somewhere by now… or – and I hate to say it – your dormitory."

"And," and here was the important thing, "you don't mind?"

"No," she turned to look at him, perplexed. "Why should I mind?"

"You're his _date_!"

"You're Lily's date, and she's back in there, dancing with James as if the world was crumbling around them… and you seem alright with that," she paused, as if she might have misread him. "You are alright, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I'm fine –"

"Well then."

She sipped her wine again, and Remus felt his heart hammering against the inside of his chest, as if it were trying to escape.

"But you looked so happy… dancing with him."

"I was – he's a good dancer."

Remus opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if he were trying to fit some strange new concept in his head, and couldn't. He took a longer drink of his wine.

"Look," she said gently, "I'm sorry if it offends your sense of honour that him running off with some bit of muslin doesn't bother me, but the truth is I didn't really want to come with him in the first place."

"Then why did you say yes?" he asked, desperately trying to keep the screaming madman he was becoming internally far away from his vocal cords.

"Because he asked. As I said, it was him or Mulciber – and that was _never_ going to happen."

"Oh." He stared back out into the night.

"I had hoped that someone else would ask me," she said, almost to herself.

Somewhere in his heart, hope stirred.

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who did you hope would ask you instead?" he asked, pronouncing each word very carefully.

"Oh… er…" and she looked up at him with those stormy grey eyes reflecting the galaxies above them and he _knew_. The shock of it rooted him to the spot.

Eleanor turned away, embarrassed. She'd had too much to drink, she knew… she shouldn't have let him see how much she wanted him; her mother would scold her for leaving herself so vulnerable. She took rather a large gulp of wine.

Remus was standing stock still, staring out into the starlit grounds. She winced. Why did she have to be so stupid? She'd thought for a moment, when they'd danced past him, she'd caught him watching them, hawkish, from the sidelines, but she must have been wrong. Beside her, Remus appeared to have reached a decision.

"Bugger Sirius," he said, half to himself, and gently took her hand. "Eleanor, would you do me the honour of granting me this dance?" he asked, as a new song began in the Hall behind them. He looked so sincere that he caught her off guard – maybe he _did _feel something for her after all; his eyes were a little glassy with wine, but that didn't cloud the affection there.

Stunned, she couldn't find a way to force her voice out of her throat, and nodded instead; he led her to the centre of their secluded balcony.

It was like a dream… they started off in a slow waltz, matching the soft strains of music floating from the open windows behind them, their hands barely touching the other's waist. Bodies tantalisingly close – Eleanor was strongly reminded of the way he'd felt, pushing her up against that statue, and she wanted more – more of him, more of his enticing warmth. The warmth of his stout blood mingling with the heat of her body, half a breath apart.

Without really knowing she was doing it, she closed the short distance between them and nestled her face into his shoulder, taking in the mouth-watering smell of him as he pulled her closer possessively and rested his chin on the top of her head. She even _smelled_ of autumn… of frosty nights by the fire and the tang of fallen leaves, of spiced wine and the pages of a new book. Remus inhaled deeply.

A deep sense of peace stole over the pair, far from the reckless lust they'd felt before; this was where they needed to be, in each others' arms. Distantly, they realised that the song in the Great Hall had ended.

Eleanor looked up at him, glancing inexorably at his lips; they were so close that she could _taste_ the wine on his breath now; as if they shared each breath…

"Remus?"

He met her gaze dead on, and in it she saw what he couldn't bring himself to say, that she was the only thing he saw – that it was _her_ image scorched indelibly on the walls of his cavernous mind… that there was nothing else he wanted in the whole world but her. The power of it made her tremble; somewhere deep in her abdomen, insistent blushes of lust began to pool, like honey.

He leant in to kiss her, their lips brushing for a moment; she turned her face away, into his shoulder.

Remus looked at her, startled, hurt.

"It's not that I don't want to kiss you," she said, not looking up at him. "Because I _really_ do, but… you're off limits, you see."

"Off-limits," he repeated, into her hair.

"In the way you wouldn't do it to James," she continued miserably, "I can't do it to Lily."

"_Lily_?" he asked, pulling away from her slightly.

"Yes – you_ must_ have known – she told me about the Library…"

"Oh… but that was ages ago, I thought –"

"She still fancies you," said Eleanor softly.

"But she's dancing with James," he told her.

Eleanor bit her lip.

"But for how long? What if she wakes up tomorrow and tonight is what has made her realise that all she wants is you, and I've taken that away from her?"

Remus sighed into her hair.

"You're right," he said, sadly. "We should wait… for the time being…"

Eleanor gave him a sad smile, and held him tightly.

"And then there's Sirius," sighed Remus, heavily. "I'm fairly sure he's fallen for you."

"He told me he hadn't," said Eleanor, looking up at him in the starlight.

"Ellie," he said tenderly. "Generally speaking men will say anything to avoid facing the truth, particularly when it comes to beautiful young women." He brushed his finger gently along her jaw, making her shiver against him. "Which makes you off-limits too," he finished sadly.

They clung on to one another in the darkness, listening to the sound of their heartbeats, working in rhythm. Eventually Remus pulled away from her and led her to a nearby bench.

"This _sucks_," she announced, with feeling. Remus nodded.

"Can nobody in Hogwarts catch a break?" he asked of the world at large; somewhere overhead an owl hooted, flying back to its Parliament.

"I think we should take that as no, then," said Eleanor, forcing herself to smile for him.

"So…"

"What?"

"What do we do now? I'm not sure I know the social protocol for a situation like this…" said Remus quietly.

"We should establish some rules then," she said, unconsciously taking his hand. "Rules for best friends – things that are safe."

"Ok… well, no kissing, I think that's fairly obvious."

"But hugging's alright, as long as we don't hold on too long… We probably shouldn't spend too much time alone together… I mean, I suppose studying is alright, but anything else…"

"It would be dangerous," he agreed, sadly; time alone with Eleanor was something that he treasured. "We can flirt a bit, I suppose, but not too much…"

"Nothing you'd have to take points off us for," she said, nudging him; they smiled at each other for a moment, before their expressions faded. "I'm not sure how much I could stand someone else flirting with you," she said, quietly.

"Nor I you," he nodded, frowning.

Neither felt it necessary to suggest that _they_ might flirt with someone else, it just wasn't going to happen.

"We can dance together, but nothing slow…"

"We can go to Hogsmeade together, but only as friends…" she smirked. "And you can't take me to Madame Puddifoots."

Remus pulled a face.

"I wouldn't take you in there anyway, it's horrific."

"We can exchange gifts at the normal, friend-safe occasions, like birthdays, Christmas and Easter…"

"But emphatically _not_ on Valentines day."

"No," she said.

"I think that's probably enough to be going on with," said Remus, in resignation. "We can always come up with more if the need arises."

Eleanor nodded, and they rose, more together than they had ever been and still inescapably far apart.

"One more," said Remus, frowning suddenly. "I shouldn't spend too much time around you on full moon – my self-control isn't what it should be to begin with…"

Eleanor nodded emphatically, remembering his lack of self-control in vivid colour.

"Right then…"

"Yes…" He looked at her for a moment. "Just tonight," he said, softly, "may I walk you back to the Tower?"

She gave him a bittersweet smile, and it lodged in his heart like a barb.

"Just tonight then, Moony."

They passed through the Great Hall unnoticed as various couples wove and twirled around them, and walked through the dark school in that quiet companionship that came so easily to them. They paused at the base of the stairs, both unsure of what needed to be said; both afraid of this great undertaking, this staying apart, and what it would mean, how far it would test them.

"Well then," Eleanor said, quietly. "Goodnight Mr Lupin."

"Goodnight Miss Wren…" he hesitated. "Eleanor – Ellie," he called her, savouring the taste of her name.

Gently, he leant down and kissed her delicately, tenderly; they rested their foreheads against one another for a moment. "Just this once," he whispered, softly.

0o0o0o0

She got ready for bed without really noticing, and sat in the darkness, the hangings pulled tightly around her bed; it wasn't until she'd heard both Alice and Lily steal in to bed and fall asleep that she allowed herself to cry.


	8. Proposals

It was early December, nearly a week after the Gala, and winter had decided to make itself felt. They had woken up one morning to deep snow lapping up against the Castle Walls like waves against a ship… Alice had told her that Hogwarts always looked like a Christmas cake at this time of year, and watching Hagrid dragging immense Christmas trees up the slope to the Castle, Eleanor could well believe it.

At breakfast, Dumbledore announced that there would be a meeting for all sixth years in the evening, and several people groaned; from the cackles coming from the nearby seventh years, Eleanor deduced that this was either going to be the Hogwarts version of sex-education or something to do with next year's Gala. She was trying to decide which would be more entertaining as she'd attempted to make her way to the greenhouses, for Herbology, but Madame Sprout's ringing voice interrupted her thoughts.

"No Herbology today chaps, there's a blizzard out there – not sure how far I trust the roof of greenhouse three – best not to risk it," she said, gathering them all together. "However, just so I know you're willing, next lesson I want an essay considering the changing uses through history of a plant of your choice – medicinal, magical, black market, whatever – four rolls of parchment. Now don't give me that," she said, as they cried mutiny. "You only have to write the things, _I_ have to mark them. If you can help it, please try to choose something different to the people around you – I don't want thirty essays on Mandrakes this year."

The Gryffindors had made an immediate detour to the Library, Lily announcing that there was no time like the present, and no one currently having anything better to do. Books collected, they set off back to the Common Room to study – or at least, open their books and ignore them. Peter, unusually, was quite enthusiastic about his essay – he'd chosen the Chinese Chomping Cabbage since he already knew a great deal about it from Potions.

"So, what've you picked?" asked James, leafing through the tome in front of him; Eleanor glanced around the room. He had the look of a man who was up to something.

"Dittany, you?"

"Not sure… I was going to do Tentacula, but Sirius bagsied it…I might do the Flitterbloom, but it's far less interesting."

"You could always go into the identification – it looks just like Devil's Snare; there was some at the bottom of my garden, for years I was convinced it was going to eat me if I didn't keep an eye on it."

James laughed.

"That's not a bad idea," he said, absently, watching Lily and Alice debating the aesthetic merits of Honking Daffodils and Biting Geraniums.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and glanced at Sirius; he gave her a wide, easy grin. Definitely up to something.

0o0o0o0

"By the way," Remus remarked, "I'd be on your guard if I were you."

"I _knew_ it, James and Sirius have been grinning at me all morning."

"Well your prank-free grace period is more than up, you can't expect us to hold off forever."

She glanced at him.

"I wondered if you were secretly the brains behind the operation."

He gave her a grin.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about, Miss Wren."

They were sat in Ancient Runes, which was fast becoming the highlight of the week for both of them; it was one of the few places that they could relax around one another. There was no need to pretend that they didn't care for one another, since they were the only two students and Professor Castaway liked them enough to ignore them and get on with his own research most of the time, and it wasn't as if either of them felt in danger of losing their cool in front of a teacher.

"As long as its not permanent, humiliating or life-threatening…"

"I wouldn't let them," Remus protested, in mock offence.

She beamed at him, and he turned ruefully back to his translation; the moments when she felt she could smile at him like that made everything else bearable.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor was changing out of her uniform as quietly as she could; Lily had had a late Patrol the previous evening, and was taking what she called a 'power nap' before the meeting. She'd got as far as pulling on her jeans and wondering which of her jumpers was currently clean when Alice walked in.

Eleanor nearly fell over when she gave a startled shriek; Lily fell out of bed with a thump.

"Merlin Alice, what?"

"What the fuck?" asked Lily groggily from the floor.

"Your hair –"

"It just grows that way – all over the place."

"No, I mean, it's _purple_!"

"It's _what_?"

She turned to look in the mirror as a dishevelled Lily scrambled out of her blanket and gasped.

"It _is_ purple!"

The three of them stood looking at Eleanor's reflection in surprise. She put her head to one side.

"It's not bad," she said thoughtfully, admiring the way the colours had shaded in lightly with her usually ashy tones.

"You aren't angry?" asked Lily, astonished.

"Well, they could have done a lot worse," said Eleanor, ruffling her already messy hair up into spikes.

"True," said Alice. "And it does kind of suit you…"

"I wonder when they did it," said Eleanor, frowning. "You'd think I'd have noticed."

"But the teachers at the meeting tonight –" started Lily, concerned.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," she said, with a grin that was strangely reminiscent of Remus's. "Would you ladies care to help me wreak my revenge?"

A slow grin spread across Lily's face.

"Nothing that breaks school rules," she said.

"Naturally."

Alice giggled excitedly; "What did you have in mind?"

0o0o0o0

"Miss Wren!" called Professor McGonagall, stunned. "What is the meaning of this?"

They'd barely got through the door the Great Hall when she noticed them; several of the school ghosts had done impressive double takes on the way down the stairs.

"The meaning of what, Professor?" Eleanor asked, coolly; behind their Head of House, Frank and the Gryffindor boys were trying not to laugh. That would have to stop.

"W- your _hair_, Miss Wren, it's purple!"

"Oh, _that_," she said, giving the impression of exasperation; beside her Alice was trying really hard not to giggle. She could feel her shaking.

"It's been perfectly normal all day and then suddenly, just as I was coming down to the meeting, it went purple," she explained, and Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at her.

"We tried changing it back," said Lily, helpfully, "but it didn't work – it must have been charmed or something."

"Have you any idea who might have done this?" asked McGonagall carefully.

Eleanor looked right at the boys, who froze in their seats, and smiled, letting them hang for a moment.

"None at all, Professor."

"Hmmpf," said Professor Sprout, eyeing the Gryffindor boys wearily. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. Beside her, Professor Flitwick was grinning.

"Charms like that usually last about a week – there's not too much you can do about them."

"Well, let us hope that it changes back of its own accord, shall we?" said Professor McGonagall, brusquely. "Take a seat, girls, while we wait for the Slytherin contingent."

They took seats next to the boys, who grinned.

"Thanks love," said Sirius, leaning over. "Thought you'd shop us for a moment there."

"Oh, I have a much worse fate planned for you," said Eleanor, smiling sweetly. "So watch your backs."

James and Peter exchanged worried looks, but Remus appeared to be fighting silent laughter; he glanced at her once and had to look away quickly.

"Ah, good, everyone's here," said Professor Flitwick, from atop a perch of textbooks. "Most of you have probably realised that this is the first meeting to plan next year's Autumn Gala –" a few people, mostly Slytherins, groaned. "This year's was such a success," he continued excitedly, "and I hope that together we can make next year's even better!"

Around the room, students were shooting him dubious looks; across the room, Eleanor met the dark eyes of Severus Snape, who looked as if any such thing would be highly unlikely. Both of them had to turn away, smirking.

"First thing's first," said Professor Sprout. "We should make it quite clear that your involvement in the Gala is compulsory, and non-attendance will earn you detentions and lose you house points. That said," she continued, ignoring the pained expressions on nearly everyone's faces. "Generally students are surprised to discover how much fun they're having, working with people they don't normally work with and doing something worthwhile."

"Our first task is to decide on a charity to support; last year it was the 'Society for the Location and Protection of Rare Species', as championed by our own Professor Kettleburn… can we have some ideas for who you would like to support?"

The students, feeling rather put upon, maintained a wall of unhelpful silence.

"No one?"

"Well, I suppose we're back to the Troll Rights Movement," said McGonagall, with calculated weariness.

Several people sniggered; had she just made a joke?

"Or the Society for the Reformation of Hags," put in Professor Sprout.

James took the bait.

"How about Q.U.A.B.B.L.E?" he said, and a few people stared at him. "What?" He said. "Quidditch is important!"

"What about the Dark Force Defence League?" suggested Dane Abercrombie, of Ravenclaw.

"No, they get enough funding," said Claire, "it should be something that doesn't get as much – like the Society for Distressed Witches."

There were a few murmurs of assent; Eleanor glanced at her teachers, who were smiling. Crafty buggers.

People were actively suggesting and defending various charities and organisations now; the Slytherins were largely silent, only adding to the discussion when they could smother someone with scorn.

Severus was looking at her again, frowning.

_What?_ She mouthed, and he shook his head slightly. He hardly ever put himself forward.

Eleanor let her eyes challenge him, until finally he cracked.

"What about the new ward that was proposed at St Mungos?" he asked, quietly. The fact that he'd spoken made quite a few people shut up – a lot of them had forgotten he was there.

"The children's ward?" asked Remus, leaning forward slightly; Severus didn't quite meet his gaze, but he glanced in his general direction.

"Yes – there was an article about it in the Daily Prophet…"

"That's right," said Alice, suddenly. "They were asking for donations – it's to help look after children who have really weird conditions, or have been abused and stuff."

Quite a few people were looking at Severus in a new light; unfortunately this included one or two of the Slytherins, who were glaring at him.

"Sounds like a really good idea," said Frank. "It's something we can all relate to – being ill when you're a kid can be really scary."

"Yes," said Lily. "It would be good if we could help out, even just a little."

Algernon Zabini, one of the few Slytherins anyone could stand, nodded.

"It's the most acceptable suggestion so far," he said, and continued (largely for his fellow Slytherins' benefit), "It makes sense – if we grow up and raise families any one of us might have the need to visit that ward."

"Merlin forbid," said Professor McGonagall, quietly.

"Shall we have a general 'aye' for the children's ward then?" Eleanor asked the room at large. "All against?"

Not even the Slytherins made a noise.

"All in favour?"

As the room gave a resounding 'AYE!' Severus blushed, but he looked quite pleased with himself all the same; the members of Lily's study group were giving him covert grins when the Slytherins weren't looking.

"Excellent," said Professor Flitwick. "And we couldn't have asked for a worthier cause. Next we have to decide what show we want to put on. This years' was rather hard work, given the material…"

Claire and Peter, who as members of the choir had had to sit through rather a lot of the early rehearsals, nodded emphatically.

"I think it's safe to say that we won't be choosing anything by Malecrit in future," agreed Professor Sprout. "I for one fancy something much more cheerful."

"A comedy, then?" suggested Peter, to general murmurs of assent.

"What about 'Hearts and Minds'?" suggested a pretty Ravenclaw girl with long silver hair. "That's a comedy."

Sirius made a face.

"It's also a romance," he said, and the girl glared at him.

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's boring, and unrealistic."

"No it's not!"

"Dorothy, it's got singing teacups in it," said Frank, fairly.

"So?"

"Well, what about "The Storm Mage's Fancy'?" asked Algernon, in his deep, authoritative voice.

"That's not a comedy," said Lily, thoughtfully. "Not really."

"_I _think it's funny," said Mulciber.

"Everybody dies horribly at the end –"

"That's why it's funny."

"Excluding your questionable taste, Mr Mulciber, I think we can leave that one," said Professor McGonagall, firmly. Algernon Zabini nodded graciously to both her and Lily, and let it rest.

They continued like this for some time, making suggestions and arguing themselves out of them, and eventually, Eleanor had had enough.

"What about a Muggle play?" she asked; Mulciber and his troll-like cronies looked as though she'd suggested eating a slug. Algernon and Severus looked interested however, as did quite a few of their classmates.

"Like what?" asked Lily. "Shakespeare?"

"You can't go wrong with a bit of Shakespeare," said Professor Flitwick. "In fact, we haven't had one of his since _I_ was in my sixth year."

"How about 'Much Ado About Nothing'" said Eleanor. "Nobody dies, but it's funny and everything goes wrong for everyone." She shot a dark look at Mulciber. "There's quite a bit of romance, and a really good evil character…"

"Perhaps we should read it, before we decide," suggested Frank.

"A capital idea, Mr Longbottom," said Professor Sprout, one eye on the clock. "Now let me see: _Accio Much Ado About Nothing!_"

"Irma won't be too impressed," said Professor Flitwick, conversationally.

"Irma needs to loosen up," said Professor Sprout, to general sniggers. "You didn't hear me say that," she told them, sternly, as a battered copy of the play zoomed in through an open window.

"Now, we wouldn't do this with a magical book, but since the play is mundane, _Geminio Ultimo_," pronounced Professor Flitwick. He had to repeat the charm several times to generate sufficient copies for the thirty-odd students; he sent them soaring out around the room with a casual flick of his wand. "You've got about two days to read them – the copies will disappear after a while – so I suggest you all get to it; our next meeting will be on Saturday at three o'clock. I'd appreciate it if you could all bring parchment and quills, and be prepared to start thinking about the production side of things. If enough of you like it, we'll go with that one – it's one of my favourites," he twinkled at Eleanor. "Off you go! Oh – could whoever ends up with the real copy bring that on Saturday too, please!"

"Did you _have_ to suggest a romance?" whined Sirius, as they filed out.

"Why don't you read it before you criticise it, Padfoot?" said Remus, following him. "You might like it."

"I doubt it," he said, then brightened up. "Hey Eleanor, we could be the romantic leads – give me a kiss?"

"Go boil your head, Black."

0o0o0o0

The sixth years could be found scattered around the Common Room that evening, their heads buried in the play; even Sirius had started his copy, after James told him that it wasn't bad. Every so often one of them would snigger and the others would look over to see whether they'd got to that bit yet. Eleanor, who knew it by heart anyway, was flicking through her copy almost lazily, occasionally helping out when someone came across a word that wasn't in use anymore.

Remus, who had finished the play already, immediately went back to the start and started to read it again; or at least he appeared to, but Eleanor knew he was using the opportunity to watch her. On the pretence of discussing the meaning of 'a lodge in a warren' she leant over his shoulder, breathing on his neck. Remus shivered.

"Stop it," he hissed.

"Well stop watching me then, it's putting me off."

"Sorry, you just get this look when you're concentrating…"

"What look?"

"You kind of bite your lip and frown a little…"

"I do?"

"Every time – and you play with your hair. It suits you, by the way."

"Thanks… I quite like it."

He smiled up at her.

"I loved the way you dealt with it, by the way – you didn't let us get to you, just carried yourself above it all."

She smiled, and cocked an eyebrow.

"I thought it was about time you saw what I was made of."

"Oh?"

He looked delightfully mischievous, lips curled in a smile, eyes sparkling, teasing… this was dangerous.

"Just watch your back, Lupin," she said, matching his crooked smile and sauntering over to sit safely between Alice and Lily on the floor.

He watched her go from behind his book, and bit his lip; she didn't even know she was doing it.

"This isn't half bad," said Sirius, grudgingly, as he finally finished his copy.

"Told you," said Eleanor, from the floor.

"So who's going to audition?" asked Alice, brightly. "I might…"

"You'll be brilliant," said James, firmly. "You'd make a good Hero, actually."

"Oh, you would Alice – go for it!" agreed Lily, grinning at James.

They weren't officially together yet, but the Autumn Gala had moved them on leaps and bounds.

"Oh no, I couldn't – I was thinking something much smaller – Margaret perhaps, or Ursula."

"Oh go on, Alice!"

"Yeah, you'd be brilliant!"

"You won't get a choice," interrupted Peter. "If it's anything like the last few years, every one of us will audition, Flitwick and Sprout will decide on who's who, and then McGonagall and Slughorn will enforce it."

There was an uncomfortable silence; Remus and Lily were looking at their friend in horror.

"You mean they'll force us to do it even if we don't want to?" Remus asked, sounding rather more like he were discussing an impending death sentence than a play.

"Pretty much – they're pretty good at choosing people who'll be great for the role though. About half the cast didn't want anything to do with it last year, and they did really well."

"This is going to be _brilliant_," said Sirius, eyes bright with mischief.

"This is going to be torture," said Remus, in alarm.

0o0o0o0

Saturday dawned bright and clear, adding a solid layer of lethal ice to the blanket of snow around the Grounds; the Marauders were already in the Great Hall, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and stabbing their forks into their breakfasts as if they had caused them mortal offence. Their hair was dripping wet, as though they'd all just had hot showers.

"What's up with you?" asked Frank, on his way past.

Four pairs of eyes glared up at him.

"_Somehow_, Eleanor made it start raining in our dormitory at three o'clock this morning," growled Sirius.

"It took us _ages_ to get it to stop," yawned Peter, pulling the bacon closer.

"And now all our stuff's sopping wet," complained James. "Because every time we use a drying spell on anything, another localised rain cloud starts up, and it gets even wetter."

Frank, who had been trying quite hard not to laugh, asked: "How do you know it was Eleanor?"

"Easy," said Sirius, "It has to be a Gryffindor, since they'd have to have access to our dorm'. We've pranked everyone else in Gryffindor tons of time and no one's ever got us back before, _and_ we pranked Eleanor last week. Has to be her."

"Quod erat demonstrandum," mumbled Remus grumpily. "Plus the only things that didn't get wet were our books and homework."

"I was wondering about that," said Peter. "Sounds a bit more like something Lily would do…"

"Nah, Evans wouldn't prank us – it'd be against her Prefectly nature."

"_I'm_ a Prefect, and I pull pranks with you all the time," said Remus.

"Yeah, but we'd never let you get any peace if you didn't," said James. "Lily doesn't have the same incentive."

"You reckon?" said Frank, as the three Gryffindor girls strode into the Hall and sat down, smiling brightly.

"You're up early," remarked Lily, buttering her toast.

"Rough night," said Sirius, his eyes on Eleanor; she looked at him in concern.

"Oh dear, what's wrong?"

Remus shook his head slightly; while a large part of him wanted to string her up by the knickers for their rude awakening and subsequent few hours of chaos, he couldn't help but admire her tenacity. As Sirius informed her through gritted teeth that everything was absolutely _fine_, thank you so very much, there was barely a tell on her face. It _had_ to have been her… Peter was probably right about Lily too; he glanced at Alice, who was struggling not to giggle. Apparently in pranking Eleanor they had unwittingly gone to war; despite himself, he was impressed. The charms involved must have been pretty complex – and they would have had to have snuck in while the Marauders were sleeping…

Caught upon the thought that Eleanor had been in the room while he'd been asleep, he almost missed her next observation; she'd turned to Frank, who was grinning at her in approval.

"What funny weather we've been having lately."

Lily snorted into her toast while Alice collapsed completely onto Frank, who was also roaring with laughter; Eleanor on the other hand, looked perfectly innocent.

"What did I say?" she asked, eyes wide. This was apparently too much for Sirius, who waved his fork at her, threateningly.

"That's _it_, Missy, it doesn't matter how sexy you are, you mess with the Marauders and you get burned," he growled across the table.

Eleanor leaned over, narrowing her eyes.

"Now you know what it feels like, you arrogant git."

He stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Think of it as pay back for all the people who've fallen foul of you and not been able to get you back for it," said Lily.

James was staring at her in admiration.

"You're lovely when you're evil," he said. "Lily, would you go with me to Hogsmeade next week – as a date, I mean?"

A smile took up residence on Lily's features that looked like it wouldn't be shifted in a hurry.

"You know, that's the first time you've asked me out since November?" she said. "It's nice to have a change, from time to time. Certainly."

"What, _really_?" James looked as though all his dreams had come true. He got up, vaulted over the table and gave Eleanor a big wet kiss on the cheek.

"Ack! What was that for?" she sputtered.

"For waking me up at hideous o'clock, drenching me repeatedly until I came down to breakfast and wearing me out sufficiently to ask Lily to Hogsmeade again!" he cried, punching the air.

Lily rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling; she turned to wink at Remus.

"Keep up the dancing and I might change my mind."

0o0o0o0

On the way to the auditions, as they had realised they would be, Remus pulled Eleanor to one side.

"A little bit of advice for the future," he said, as the others walked around a corner. "I really hate early mornings."

"Oh, do you? I rather like being in control of my own hair colour," she said, challenge in her eyes; he rose to it immediately, taking a threatening step forward, his voice dropping dangerously, huskily.

"You should pay attention to Padfoot you know," he said, closing in. "Being damn' sexy will only protect you for so long, particularly if I get a few more sleepless nights."

"Is that so?" Eleanor asked, refusing to back down. Gods he loved it when her eyes flashed like that.

"It is."

"I might have to arrange a few more sleepless nights for you, then," she said, smiling menacingly, hands on hips.

"Is that a promise?" he growled, having real trouble not taking hold of her; he closed his eyes. "We should stop this."

"Yes, yes we should," said Eleanor, stepping away.

They hurried to catch up with their friends, trying not to look at one another.

"Remus?" Eleanor asked, just before they reached the door to the meeting room, he glanced at her. "Damn' sexy?"

"And you know it," he grinned.


	9. Casting Call

Christmas came and went, with its own dramas and fall outs, and the new term started, as was tradition, with a spectacularly Marauderesque bang. Naturally, this meant that all four of the Marauders had a very long, very arduous detentions. Lily was patrolling with Frank, and Alice, having been inadvertently at the receiving end of the prank, had gone for a quiet lie-down in the Gryffindor Tower; Eleanor had already begun planning their inevitable retribution.

Eleanor had retreated to the Library on the basis that there was no time like the present to get the huge amount of work they'd been presented with on the first week back started. A disparity in the curriculum provided by her tutors and the Hogwarts staff had meant that she had written at least three of the essays required already, and it was simply a case of copying them out. She'd just put the finishing touches to the third one when distraction appeared in the form of Severus Snape, who settled at her table rather wearily.

"Evening," she said, moving some of her books to give him room.

Severus grunted.

"Are you alright?"

He looked out at her from within the curtain of his dark hair.

"I've been better," he said.

There were a few minutes silence as they each pulled out a new project. Eleanor dragged out her Charms chart; whatever Severus was working on involved a book with some horrific illustrations.

_Each subject must be of an approximate mass to the other, or an imbalance in the spell will occur; this will lead to combustion. _

_Good to know_, Eleanor thought, and noted it down under the heading 'Problems'.

"But, thank you for asking."

"You're welcome."

_The correct way to charm a teapot to sing like a Partridge is as follows – _

"Eleanor?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the page in front of him.

"What?"

"Do you know any decent healing spells?"

Eleanor looked at him; he was hiding it well, but his right side was drooped more than usual, and – yes – there was a hitch in every other breath.

"We should take you to Madame Pom-"

"No!" he said, and started packing his things away. "Forget I said anything – goodnight."

Eleanor gathered up her homework with a wave of her wand and hurried after him; he was limping. She pulled him into an empty classroom.

"What's going on, Severus?"

"Nothing."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nothing, really, I – _OW!_"

"Nothing, huh?"

"You didn't have to poke me so hard…"

"What happened?"

Severus just stared at her; absently, she noticed that he had a black eye, previously concealed behind his hair.

"Well, fine, don't tell me – but at least let me help –"

"I _can't_ go to Madame Pomfrey," he said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now.

"We don't have to… we just need to get a little _creative_."

0o0o0o0

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" he hissed, as they hid outside Professor Slughorn's classroom.

"It's a terrible idea," she whispered, "but you said you didn't want to go to Madame Pomfrey, and you'll never heal up properly if I can't get it."

"_Fine_."

"Do try not to sound _so_ enthusiastic about me helping you."

"Sorry."

"That's better. Now go, quickly, or this won't work…"

She watched as he hurried off; he was right, this was a really bad idea, but what with his need for secrecy and the rather urgent particulars of the situation they didn't have much of a choice.

Straightening up, she smoothed down her shirt and pulled out the Potions essay she'd copied down earlier.

_Count to ten, deep breath, worried expression…_

She knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Professor Slughorn was seated at the head of the classroom, reading through essays and attempting to look stern; it wasn't an expression that he was particularly good at. Eight eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Marauders turned to look at her. If Severus had known that they were in here, he would never have agreed to this.

"Oh, I'm sorry Professor – it's just I'm terribly worried about my essay – I'm not sure if I've understood this particular formula; I wouldn't want to get it wrong on the exam –" she babbled, giving the impression of a very flustered schoolgirl. Slughorn put a fatherly arm around her shoulders and piloted her away from the boys.

"Now, now, Miss Wren, let's just sit down and have a look, shall we? No need to get upset…" he half turned. "You gentlemen can just carry on, thank you."

Eleanor groaned in silent sympathy; he was making them scrape out the cauldrons by hand. Urgh. At least it would cheer Alice up…

"Oh, thank you Professor, I'm sure I've just misunderstood…"

She could feel four pairs of eyes watching her as she fretted and Slughorn patronised her. Glancing up, she met Remus's questioning gaze and shook her head, just a fraction.

_Come _on_ Severus, _she thought.

CRASH!

Something hit the floor above them with sufficient force to make the ceiling shake.

"What in blazes?" Slughorn cried.

_Finally_.

Above them, the sound of illicit and joyous shattering was continuing; all six of them were frozen in place, staring upwards. Then, drifting down to them like an evil smell came the sound of hysterical cackling.

"Peeves!" said Slughorn, hotly. "He's gone too far this time. Miss Wren, keep an eye on these rapscallions for a minute," he instructed, hurrying out of the classroom.

"That was brilliant," said Sirius, as she watched him out of sight. "Wait, what are you do-"

"Shut up and keep scrubbing," she said and slipped into Slughorn's private store; the man couldn't organise his ingredients for anything. This was going to take too long – she could already hear shouts from above; she hoped Severus had got himself away.

She scanned the shelves hurriedly – she could barely reach the top ones… there was the sound of a door closing in the classroom.

"Eleanor – he's coming back," hissed James, as Peter returned to his seat. "_Whatever you're doing, hurry up_!"

"_Accio dittany_!" she hissed, and three tiny crystal bottles flew into her hand. Quickly secreting them in her waistband of her skirt she slipped back out of the store, closed the door and hurried back to the desk, pulling her shirt straight.

The Marauders were staring at her in disbelief – and a touch of admiration – but their expressions were ones of carefully crafted annoyance as soon as Slughorn returned.

"No need to look at me like that boys," he frowned, sitting back down. "You earned this punishment, after all. Now, Miss Wren, let me take another look…"

She let him think he was helping her for another five minutes before taking her leave, the curious gaze of all four of her friends on her retreating back.

0o0o0o0

"_Episkey._"

"Ow!"

"Well don't fidget then… here," she said, passing him one of the bottles of dittany. She hadn't really needed three, but there hadn't been any time… chances were Slughorn wouldn't even notice that they were missing. They'd probably come in handy; she put two of them back in her bag.

"This stuff's really good, what is it?" Severus asked, watching in amazement as the deep gash in his leg painlessly healed itself, leaving a strange trail of smoke.

"Essence of dittany. I used to help my housekeeper prepare it for her nephew."

"Get into a lot of fights, did he?"

"Is that what happened to you?"

Severus paused, weighing the tiny bottle in his hands.

"I'm not telling you," he said. "Don't – please don't look at me like that… I'm grateful for the help… it's just," he sighed, and slumped a little. "I don't want anyone to know."

"Know what, that Mulciber's a violent inbred twat?" asked Eleanor. "That one I worked out all by myself, actually."

He stared at her.

"How did you know?"

"It was the way he looked at you… that day you spoke up in the meeting."

"He… he doesn't like people like me to succeed…" he said, bitterly.

"People like you?"

"Half-bloods."

"You mean, someone with one Muggle parent?" she asked, frowning.

"Is that not what you call it in the Alps?"

"I've never called it anything before…"

He smiled grimly.

"It sounds like a nice place."

Eleanor sat on the desk opposite him, pulling her feet up and resting her chin on her knees.

"This place is so… angry… no, angry's the wrong word… so mixed-up, so _lost_, sometimes. People classifying others by their parentage, people fighting in corridors… people excluding others because they're different…" she frowned. "I can't pretend the villages around me were any different, but I miss the fact that in the Chalet, nothing could touch me. Or anyone I invited in. Friends were friends – it was all a lot simpler."

He gave a hollow laugh.

"Hogwarts is a good deal simpler for me than home…"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, there's a hoard of Mulcibers here – and your dratted friends – but generally speaking whatever they do you know the punishment for something will be sufficient for them to stop eventually. Not throw that last spell… I don't have that at home."

Not for the first time, Eleanor wondered about the dark, shy boy in front of her.

"Your parents?"

"They… don't get on," he said, not meeting her eyes. "My father – well… he doesn't like anything much… but he _hates_ magic. Thinks the fact that my mother and I have it makes him weak."

"So he…" how did you ask someone that? "Reminds himself how much stronger he is?"

"Regularly."

"That's –"

"Yes. Don't tell anyone, will you?" he asked, suddenly looking up at her. "I don't think I could bear it if those Gryffindor bastards knew."

"I won't, I promise."

"Thanks…"

They surveyed each other awkwardly for a moment; Eleanor pointed her wand at him.

"_Reparo_," she said, and the torn fabric of his uniform knitted itself back together.

He held out the bottle of dittany.

"You keep that… you might need it again."

0o0o0o0

"What time's the meeting again?"

"For the last time, Alice, not until two," said Sirius from the vicinity of the carpet.

"Well if you hadn't given me concussion then maybe I'd remember it better," she snapped, giving him a light shove.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," said Peter, watching one of his bishops battle-axing Sirius's castle. "It all got a bit… out of hand."

It was a lazy Sunday morning, and none of them felt like attending anything involving hard work, which the afternoon's session undoubtedly would. They were sprawled across the Common Room in the kind of stupor that comes after a hearty breakfast eaten late in the day; they had absorbed Claire and Frank at breakfast since none of them had any intention of venturing out for lunch, and both of them were considered honorary Gryffindors by the majority of the Tower now anyway.

Frank had fallen asleep with his head in Alice's lap, his long legs dangling over the end of the sofa, snoring softly; Sirius and Peter were engaged in a vicious chess match on the rug in front of the fire. Claire had occupied the other end of the sofa and was painting her toenails lots of different colours. Lily was curled up comfortably in one of the squashy armchairs with James; both of them were reading, though the material was wildly different – 'Beating the Bludgers' by Kennilworthy Whisp and a Muggle novel, both Christmas presents from the other. Remus was stretched out with his back against Claire's end of the sofa, watching Eleanor idly conjuring a series of floating flowers, bubbles and puffs of smoke from her own squashy armchair.

"And we paid for it, believe me," said James, not even looking up from his book. "Slughorn had us scraping cauldrons out for _ages_."

"Well then, you shouldn't try to levitate your classmates then, should you," said Lily trying, and failing, to look stern; she was far too comfortable, curled up with her boyfriend, to be really annoyed with him.

Remus grinned at Eleanor; he'd told her about the talk he'd had with Lily at the Autumn Gala – James had been thanking him every other day for weeks. She blushed slightly, and absently touched the spine of the book he'd given her for Christmas – a book of Shakespeare's sonnets; she'd given up pretending that she wasn't carrying it around with her all the time, instead telling Alice and Lily that she liked dipping in and out of poetry, and she wanted it on her in case she became catatonic in History of Magic.

Remus sighed and glared mildly at Sirius; just because _he_ wasn't 'off limits' anymore didn't mean that Eleanor was. Her initial prediction of Sirius's disinterest had appeared to be proven wrong at Christmas, when he had presented her with a beautiful chrome-plated necklace (according to Sirius, gold was tacky and since the whole group now knew about Remus's 'furry little problem', the majority of them disapproved of silver). Remus had only just managed not to strangle him right there under the tree on Christmas morning as he'd helped her with the clasp. Eleanor had taken him to one side later in the day and set him straight, which had led to the usual inevitable battle with their own desires.

She was still wearing it, which irked him a little, but as she'd repeatedly pointed out, it was pretty and it didn't mean anything more to her than a gift given in friendship. It was _very_ pretty… he looked at it; the tiny flowers were elegantly spaced around the neck and collar bone, flowing down to one tendril that was just visible as it disappeared below the fabric of her blouse. He sighed; Sirius really didn't know just how much of a bastard he was.

"Serves you right," Alice was saying. "I had that headache for days."

"That reminds me," said Sirius, grimacing as Peter systematically destroyed his pawns. "What _were_ you up to on Wednesday, Eleanor?"

"What's this?" asked Lily, immediately curious; Remus found it endlessly amusing that she was a lot less worried about rule breaking when it was Eleanor doing it.

Eleanor conjured a tiny, jewel-bright humming bird and sent it skimming off through the smoke and flowers, which were now spreading liberally across the ceiling.

"Nothing you need to know about," she said.

"I need to know about something that might get us in trouble," said Sirius, turning to her. "If Slughorn notices whatever it is you took from his private stores is missing he'll suspect us."

"Padfoot, when has Slughorn _ever_ noticed something missing from his stores?" asked Peter incredulously.

"There's a first time for everything."

"You took something from Slughorn's private store?" gasped Alice, hand over her mouth. This movement dislodged Frank slightly and he squinted up at them sleepily.

"He's not been hiding his crystallised pineapple in there again has he?"

"_No_," said Sirius, getting frustrated. "Eleanor showed up right in the middle of our detention on Wednesday, caused some kind of distraction involving Peeves – and I'd quite like to know how you arranged that, by the way, Peeves isn't the best at taking his time over things, so you _had_ to have had help -" he eyed Alice and Lily, but both of them looked just as oblivious. " – snuck into his private stores, stuck something in her clothing and made off with it without him noticing a thing."

"It wasn't half bad, actually," reflected James.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, now tell us what you are up to."

"I'm not up to anything."

"Then what you _were_ up to," said Peter, leaning on his elbows. "I think I speak for all four of us when I say we could do without another early morning thunderstorm."

"Rest assured I'm not planning any retribution – that detention was sufficiently disgusting to appease my sense of justice."

"But what did you steal?"

"Does it matter?" asked Eleanor, getting quite annoyed.

"Well, I'd like to know in case one of the teachers asks if I've seen it," said Lily, fairly.

"Yes," agreed Frank. "That way at least we know we can deflect any attention away."

"Well I appreciate the thought, but…"

"If you're not up to anything, and it's neither dangerous nor illegal, then what's the harm in telling us?" asked Remus, reasonably. Eleanor glared at him.

"Fine. It was Essence of Dittany. Happy now?"

Claire frowned.

"That's a really powerful healing tincture," she said slowly. "Why would you need it?"

There was a pause as the collected students processed this new information.

"Ellie, if someone's been hurting you, you can tell us," said Sirius, kneeling up and laying a hand on her leg. Remus fought the urge to hex him for using the familiar form of her name; that was what _he_ called her.

"And then we can kill them," added James; he glanced at Lily.

"No, I agree, if someone's hurting anyone in this group then they die."

"While I'm grateful for the support, I'm fine," said Eleanor, firmly. "It wasn't for me, and before you ask, no I'm not going to tell you who."

There for a moment there was no sound other than the crackle of the fire and the burble of conversations continuing around them.

"But that means that there's someone in the school who's been sufficiently injured to need Essence of Dittany," began Frank, slowly.

"-and who won't go to Madame Pomfrey –" added James.

"-and who doesn't want anyone to know how badly they're hurt," finished Remus sombrely.

Lily gave Eleanor a hard look.

"The person you're protecting needs help, Eleanor, you have to tell us who they are."

"No," she replied, calmly. "I don't. Anyway I can't, I promised."

"I could take points from you," said Lily, calling her bluff.

"There wouldn't be any point, I still wouldn't tell you."

"But if someone needs our help –" started Alice, but Eleanor interrupted her.

"They made it quite clear that they didn't _want_ help – they only asked me because I was unlikely to tell anyone, and they still wouldn't tell me anything much. If I let on to someone about it they won't even come to _me_ for help, and then where will they be?" She continued soberly, "Honestly guys I don't think there's that much we can do."

There was rather a glum silence, broken abruptly by a series of loud taps on the Common Room window; as they turned to look one of the third years opened it and immediately flattened herself against the wall as nine school owls soared into the room. Like members of some weird aerial ballet they circled the ceiling for a moment before dropping a letter into the laps of all nine stunned sixth years.

"Now what did we do?" asked James, staring after the owls as they flew back out of the window.

"Nothing," said Claire, staring at her envelope. "They're cast lists."

They stared at each other; Remus had gone a little green.

"One at a time?" asked Frank, who was also looking quite pale.

"Alright," said Alice, taking a deep breath and ripping open her envelope. Inside were two sheets of parchment; one had a full cast list, which she ignored and the other, just her name and a character name… "I got Margaret!" she cried, happily; Frank kissed her.

"See, we told you you'd be brilliant!"

"You next, Claire," Sirius urged, looking quite excited.

"Oh, ok… I'm Ursula! That's ace – not too many lines," she smiled. Peter gave her a wide grin. "And me and Alice have a lot of stuff together." The two girls smiled happily at one another.

"Now it's Moony's turn," said James.

"Do I have to?" he asked in a voice of dread.

"Yes, or I will," said Sirius.

"Urgh…" he opened his envelope and went a funny green colour. _There had to be some kind of mistake_, he thought, desperately.

"Who's he got?" asked Eleanor, seeing that Remus probably wasn't going to answer them. Claire read his part over his shoulder.

"Oh, wow," she said. "He's Benedick."

"_What?_" asked Sirius, who'd rather been hoping for that part.

"Way to go Moony!" James and Peter high-fived on his behalf.

"That's excellent Remus," said Lily.

"This is _horrible_," said Remus. "There has to be some kind of mistake…"

"You can't back out," said Peter, with sympathy. "They won't let you."

_Oh Gods…_

"I'll bet you'll make a great Benedick," said Eleanor, encouragingly. He grimaced.

"Doubtful," he said, unhappily.

"Ooh, I wonder who you'll have to kiss!" cried Sirius gleefully. "It's about time you got some practice – _OW_!" he yelped as he disappeared under every cushion within reach.

"There's a time and a place Padfoot," said James, firmly. "Lily, who've you got?"

"Er," she said, opening her envelope. "Oh," she said, going a bit pink. "I'm Hero…"

"Brilliant!" said Eleanor, enthusiastically. "You'll be perfect." Lily beamed at her.

James opened his, frowning.

"You'll kick arse… but I might have to hex whoever's Claudio – I don't want him… never mind."

"James is Claudio," said Sirius, peering over his friend's bit of parchment. "Well that fits."

James and Lily had both gone a bit pink now; they were smiling shyly at one another.

"Me next," said Sirius. "I hope I get Don Pedro – it would suit me, being royalty." His face fell, and Remus – not quite having forgiven him for earlier – snatched the parchment out of his hand; he snorted.

"Well you're still a Prince…" he grinned evilly. "Sprout and Flitwick seem to have the measure of you 'Don John, Don Pedro's bastard brother'."

"Shut up _Benedick_," said Sirius grumpily.

"Oh, don't be like that," said Alice, soothingly. "Think of it this way: evil characters are always the most fun to play."

"I suppose…"

"Eleanor next!" said Peter, ignoring Padfoot's wounded pride.

"Oh, right…" there was the sound of ripping paper, then Eleanor went bright red.

"What?"

"I'm… er… Beatrice," she said, looking at Remus, whose pallor quickly evolved to match her blush. "I mean, I've always wanted to play Beatrice –"

"Moony has to kiss Ellie!" teased Sirius gleefully, before James buried him in the cushions once more.

"You'll both be excellent," said Lily, firmly. "Peter, who are you?" she asked, steering the conversation away from her two stricken friends.

"Ooh, Friar Francis," he said excitedly. "He's cool!"

"Nice one," said James, still partially suffocating his friend. Claire gave Peter a smile that made him blush. "Just Frank left, then."

They waited as Frank opened the remaining envelope.

"I won't have got any- oh. I'm Leonato…" he said, looking as if he wasn't sure if he was happy or terrified.

"That's a really good part," grinned Eleanor.

Alice giggled.

"That means I'm dating an older man," she said.

"One who happens to be your master," said Frank, grinning.

"Get a room, you two," said Sirius, who had managed to fight James off.

"You never do."

Sirius pulled a face.

"Who else is in it?"

They each pulled out their cast lists and began to read.

"Ooh," said Lily, "Algernon Zabini's Don Pedro, he'll be interesting to watch…"

"Urgh, Snivellus is Antonio – you have to pretend to be his _brother_ Frank…"

"Don't be a dick, Sirius," said Eleanor sharply, as Lily glared at him.

"But he's-"

"A friend of mine, got a problem with that?" she snapped.

The Marauders stared at her as one man, dumbfounded; usually only Lily rushed to his defence.

"Yes, actually," Sirius began.

"Well, tough. I think he'll do an excellent job" she said, with more force than was strictly necessary. "And if I hear you calling him 'Snivellus' again I'll make you eat your own Quidditch robes, are we clear?"

The thing they'd quickly realised about Eleanor was that, like Remus, there were times to push her and times when she'd probably kill you if you did.

"But-"

"Leave it Padfoot," said James, quietly.

"I can kind of see why they picked you for Beatrice," said Peter, nervously.

"Sorry. I just hate when people bully each other."

"But _he_-"

Remus put his hand over Sirius's mouth.

"She's holding a wand, Padfoot. I think if you keep talking the existence of any future generations of the great and noble house of Black will be in jeopardy," he hissed.

"Moving on," said Lily, with an air of authority.

"Ah, Ferdie's Balthasar," said Claire, changing the subject.

"Oh, he'll be good," said Peter, eyeing Eleanor's wand hand worriedly. "He sings really well…"

Alice blushed.

"I see I'll be being ravished by Nathan…"

"I'll make him be gentle," said Frank. "He's a good chap, he'll have fun as Borachio."

"Who's Conrade?" asked Eleanor, still glaring at Sirius, Remus's hand still clamped firmly over his mouth.

Claire laughed.

"Thomas Abbot – he'll be in for a shock, he _hates_ being the centre of attention."

"He's not the only one," grumbled Remus.

"Urgh, how did Mulciber and Rosier get parts?" Lily asked, with distaste.

Eleanor peered at the list in front of her and snorted.

"Dogberry and Verges… well at least they don't have to interact with too many people," she said. "That's probably because the teachers want to find out whether or not they actually have a sense of humour, between them."

"Damocles is the Sexton…" said Frank. "He'll like that, taking the piss out of that pair of twats. Oh, poor Dotty," he went on. "She's 'boy' – she won't like that at all."

"OW!" cried Remus, and snatched his hand away from Sirius's mouth. "He bit me!"

"I wanted my mouth back," said Sirius, huffily.

"I'd wash that if I were you Remus," said Lily. "You don't know where it's been."

Remus pulled a face and pulled out his wand.

"I know precisely where it's been," he said darkly. "_Scourgify._"

"You know you love me."

"Archie's a Messenger," said Claire, conversationally. "Ooh, and Boxley's a member of the watch…"

"Awesome, so's Crispin," said Frank.

Alice pulled a face.

"And Crabbe… poor them."

"Alice!" said Sirius, sounding impressed. "I've never heard you say anything so mean before."

Alice blushed.

0o0o0o0

They'd all started to make a move to get ready for the meeting; Eleanor was rooting around in her wardrobe for a jumper. Pulling out an old green jumper she straightened up and very nearly had a heart attack.

"Sorry," said Remus, closing the door. "I don't think anyone saw me…"

"If they come up here and find you…"

"I know… Eleanor, what are we going to do?"

"About what?"

"About the play…"

"I don't think there's anything we _can_ do. Peter said that we're stuck with it, once they've assigned parts…"

"I know... but Sirius is right, I _will_ have to kiss you…"

Eleanor allowed herself to raise an eyebrow and smile.

"I have to say, I was rather looking forward to that particular aspect."

Remus grinned before he could stop himself, then forced his face back into a frown.

"But I have to kiss you like I haven't done it before, like I don't want to push you up against the nearest wall and –" he stopped himself, but far too late.

"Push me up against the nearest wall and what?" she asked, flattered and a little shocked by his fervour.

"Well," he said, blushing again. "You know…"

Eleanor gave him a coy little smile that made his heart do somersaults.

"No, I don't… perhaps you'll have to enlighten me…" she said, and then checked herself. "Some other time, when I'm no longer off limits."

Remus crossed the room and sat down on her bed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Bloody Padfoot," he grumbled.

"Why _do_ you call him that?" she asked, settling beside him.

To her surprise she detected a flicker of something hidden in his expression, but it was gone in an instant.

"You'll have to ask him, he thought it sounded _cool_."

Eleanor grimaced; they sat in gloomy contemplation for a minute, each lost in the other's thoughts. Remus heaved a great sigh.

"I _hate_ being the centre of attention," he said, softly.

"I know… but I'll be right there with you, for most of the play, and James or Lily will be with you for most of the rest…"

She lifted her hand to his cheek and he closed his eyes, savouring the moment of contact.

"That, at least, is something I can be grateful for," he said, pressing the palm of it against his lips. He took her hand and held it to him. Their enforced separation was wearing on them both like good cloth against friction. He held her hand to his face tightly, pressing another kiss into her wrist and resting against it. He looked at her hopelessly, his face a portrait of misery.

"I think we're breaking every single one of ours rules right now," he said.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, attempting frivolity. "It's not Valentine's day and we're not in Madame Puddifoot's."

"That's because hell hasn't frozen over," he mumbled, giving a dry chuckle. "Although I think I've thought of another one, sad to say," he said, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of her captive hand.

"Oh?" Eleanor asked, her heart sinking.

"Excluding instances of acute illness, neither of us should ever be seated on the other's bed."

Eleanor glanced behind her at her bed, which looked irritatingly comfortable and inviting; they were very close together… if she wanted to, she could pull him down with her and then…

But they were in the girls' dormitory, and nearly late for a meeting, and while Remus wasn't off limits anymore, _she_ certainly still was if Sirius's recent behaviour was anything to go by.

"Bloody Gryffindors," she grumbled. "Why do we have to be so damn' _noble_ all the time?"

"It's our way," he said, finally relinquishing her hand and standing. "Come on, my lady tongue," he said, paraphrasing Shakespeare.

"We'll have less of that, my Lord Lackbeard."

"Isn't that Claudio?"

"Do _you_ have a beard?"

"No, but…"

"There you are then."

"But Ellie, that's _my_ line!"


	10. Fourth Aside, Letters Home

Dear Mum and Dad,

You'll never guess what – I got a part in the Autumn Gala! We're doing this Muggle play, I don't know if you've heard of it, by some dead playwright called Shakespeare – it's called 'Much Ado About Nothing', and it's really funny. I mean, I didn't get all the jokes right away, they're in an older form of English apparently, but when Remus explained them to me they were hilarious. I'm playing Claudio, and it's quite a major part. He seems like a bit of an idiot at times though, there's this whole bit where… actually I'll not tell you, and then you'll have to come see me! Any ticket money we raise is going to that new children's wing at St Mungo's… funny thing, it was Snape who suggested it. Didn't know he had it in him.

Everyone got good parts, though I think Frank and Remus would rather they didn't, and the rehearsals are going quite well, now Sirius has stopped sulking about not getting the main part. Guess who did though! Remus! Every time he thinks about it he goes a bit green, but when he gets into reading it through with everyone he's really good… he's got a bit of a thing for the leading lady too, but he'll kill me if he finds out I told you.

Anyway, it's not until November – I reckon they'll send something home about tickets over the summer – but I'd really love it if you could come to see us. It's a lot more fun than I thought it would be. I think Sirius would appreciate it if you came too… he's doing alright, but he still gets down sometimes. I think he might also have a bit of a thing for the leading lady, which is a bit problematic, as you can imagine.

Lily's still the most beautiful, wonderful girlfriend in the whole world – she's my girlfriend in the play too!

Hope you're both doing well – and that you've caught some more Death Eaters, Dad!

Lots of Love,

James

P.S. Thanks for the socks!

0o0o0o0

Dear Mum and Dad,

How are you both? I really missed not coming home for Christmas, though of course we had a really good time up here. James is still being the perfect gentleman – I mean, who knew? It sort of makes me wish I'd given in and gone out with him before, except that I suspect that these recent glimmers of maturity are new. Alice and Eleanor are both well, thank you for asking, they both say to say 'hello' and thanks for the toffee.

I have got a bit of news, actually. Do you remember that play I was telling you about for the Autumn Gala next year? I got a part! I didn't think I would, I mean usually I'd hate being on stage, but it's so much fun! We're doing Much Ado About Nothing, I think I told you before Christmas, and I'm Hero! I think I'd be more nervous if James wasn't Claudio – everyone got really good parts, which makes it easier. It's really just like relaxing with everyone, though I suspect it will turn into a good deal more hard work next term.

I don't think they're doing anything about tickets just yet, but all the money goes to charity – I'd really like it if you'd come and watch. Would you like me to put you down for tickets? Tuney too – she can bring that Vernon boy if she wants, do send her my love, won't you?

Hope you three are doing well.

All my love,

Lily

0o0o0o0

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm in a play! We're doing a comedy by a Muggle called William Shakespeare – Lily was telling me about his life, he sounds really interesting. It's really funny, and a little bit rude, but I think Sirius makes it ruder than it is – he always manages that somehow. I'm playing Margaret, she's a servant to the main family in the play and as far as I can tell she's a little bit of a scarlet woman, if you take my meaning. Eleanor says that she has a heart of gold though, and I think she's right. She's playing the lead – and Lily's Hero, who sort of sets the whole thing off. It's all very exciting!

I'd love it if you could come to see us – it's in November, so I expect they'll send something out about it later – but it really would mean a lot. I mean, how often do we get the opportunity to do something as strange and wonderful as this? Oh, did I say? The money raised from the performance and the feast is going towards a new children's wing at St Mungo's – they do such good work. Would you ask Aunty Enid and Uncle Algie too? It's for a good cause!

Anyway, I can't write much more, I have rehearsals, but do tell Aunty Enid thanks very much for the shawl, Frank says I look beautiful in it!

All my love,

Alice

0o0o0o0

Dear Mother,

Thank you very much for the package, the books were very much appreciated. My studies are continuing well, though I will admit there's a lot more work this year – I suppose they're preparing us for the NEWTs, though there's more to it than just homework this year, which is why I'm writing. I've been given a part in the school's Autumn Gala – we're doing a Muggle play by William Shakespeare. Alice was telling me about his life and he sounds a bit of a rogue – anyway, Lily and Eleanor lent me a few of his other plays and I must say, they are excellent. This particular play is a comedy called 'Much Ado About Nothing' and, very loosely, it's about a group of nobles falling in and out of love.

There's a brilliant bit where the majority of the cast try to get two of their friends who've sworn off love together, it's really quite funny. I'm playing Leonato, the father of the girl who's in love right at the start (who's Lily) and the uncle of the girl who's sworn off love (who's Eleanor) – and Severus Snape (you remember, Eileen Prince's son) is playing my brother Antonio (who's the uncle of both of them!). It's all delightfully tangled. Alice's playing something of a rotten flirt, which she's not hugely comfortable with, but she's going to be brilliant!

Anyway, must dash – I have patrol with Algernon Zabini (he's in the play too!). I hope you are well and not causing too much trouble!

All the best,

Your Frank

P.S. Professor McGonagall asked to be remembered to you, so I'm reminding you!

0o0o0o0

Mother,

I am in a ridiculous play with some appalling people. It is in November. You don't have to attend if you are busy.

My studies continue much as they have, I am excelling in both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts as usual, and my standard of work in both Charms and Transfiguration has much improved.

Hope that you are well.

Severus

P.S. I think I may have made a friend.

0o0o0o0

Dear Mum and Dad,

You remember that play I was going on about before Christmas? Well I got a part! I'm Friar Francis! No singing this time, which is a shame, but I get loads of lines – I'm really chuffed! Everyone in our group got parts, which is great because that way no one feels left out. James is this young lord called Claudio, who falls in love with Lily's character, Hero (which was rather apt, if you ask me), Sirius is playing the bad guy, Don John – I think he's having a brilliant time being evil – and Remus got the lead, Benedick. He's best friends with Claudio and is forced to fall in love with Beatrice, Hero's cousin, who's being played by Eleanor – we're having a great time teasing him about that. Frank's Leonato, Hero's dad, Alice is playing Margaret, who's a waiting woman and a bit of a tart (which is funny, because Alice really isn't), and Claire is Ursula, who's a much more sensible waiting woman.

By the way, I asked Claire if she wanted to go out with me – as my girlfriend – and she said yes! I can't even think of the words for how happy I am about that! Eleanor's been encouraging me, I didn't think she would say yes, but she did! (Eleanor immediately said 'I told you so' too – she's practically a Marauder now, all the girls are).

It's on in November, and parents can come watch – all the money we raise is going to charity – so I was wondering if you could take a couple of days off work and come to see us. Dad can get a copy of it out of the library if you want to read it – it's dead funny.

Anyway, I have to go – Sirius just set fire to the desk, so I should probably help him put it out.

Lots of Love

Peter

0o0o0o0

Dear Dad,

I got a part in the school play, Much Ado About Nothing! I'm Ursula, she's a waiting woman to this young lady who falls for a noble lord and is much maligned by him (because he's really gullible, I mean, he loves her too, he just thinks she's unfaithful – with some help from Sirius's evil character), but it all gets sorted out in the end. While all this is going on everyone's trying to get two people who hate each other to fall in love, which they manage – with a considerable amount of trickery. It's really complicated, and loads of fun.

Everyone's parents are coming to see it – even us muggleborns. Do you think you'll be able to make it? It's in November, so hopefully you'll be able to get a couple of days off – I can show you around the school and Hogsmeade. All the money raised is going to charity.

I've got some other exciting news too… Peter asked me out – properly – so he's my boyfriend now. Don't worry, he's the perfect gentleman, and all his friends have pretty much absorbed me – which is partly why I'm enjoying the play so much. I've _never_ had so much fun at school – they're all mischievous, but don't worry, I'm staying out of trouble – three of them are Prefects.

Hope you're well, and everything's ok at work.

Lots of Love

Claire

0o0o0o0

Dear Mum and Dad,

How are you doing? Thanks for the cake, Mum, it was delicious – it certainly didn't last long. I'm doing ok – school's great, the work's challenging, but I'm more than mastering it. Professor Flitwick told me that I'd got a hundred and ten percent on my last piece of coursework, so no worries on that front. The boys are just as troublesome as ever, though I promise I'm doing my best to stay out of trouble. Frank says you're welcome, by the way – I think he enjoys taking the pictures as much as you enjoy seeing them! He's a devil with that camera, I tell you.

You asked about the new girl in the photographs? That's Eleanor, she's in Gryffindor too, and she's really nice – I get on very well with her. She knows about me – I didn't tell her, she worked it out – and she doesn't care. None of them do, I never thought I could have so many good friends. I'm so glad I could come here.

Well, at the minute there is one thing I'd prefer not to have to do, but still. There's a charity Gala every autumn (you might remember, Mum) and there's a play. I've been given the lead – I don't know why, everyone knows I hate being the centre of attention, and I'm really not that good. Eleanor says I'll be great, but I don't really believe her. I mean there's only about four scenes I'm not in, for a start – how am I supposed to remember all of that? At least I'm not alone – pretty much everyone has a part, and I'm not on stage on my own for a lot of it. I think Sirius is still a bit miffed at me because he wanted the lead, but I'd gladly swap if I could. Although, since he's playing the evil character I'd still have a lot to do.

Anyway, I don't know if you're interested, but you can come and watch me meet my doom in November if you want – I'm sure there will be a letter about it over the summer.

I've put in some more of Franks pictures, as requested. I really don't look that much of a prat all the time, I'm sure. Hope Dad's knees are better.

All my love,

Remus

0o0o0o0

Ma chère maman,

How are you? Thanks so much for the chocolate, it was delicious – a real taste of home. The fudge was from Honeydukes, there's a shop in the village – it has pretty much every kind of sweet I've ever heard of. I've settled in really well, thanks for asking. It's a long way from the chalet, and I'm still not entirely comfortable with how many people are around, but I'm getting used to it. I've made some brilliant friends, and not all of them from my own house.

I seem to be doing alright in class – some of it I've already covered, and the rest is agreeably challenging. There's loads of support though, if you ask for it – the staff are really friendly, and a few of the students I've fallen in with have study groups that they invited me to join. I was wondering if a few of them could come and visit me in the summer.

When I wrote to you before Christmas I told you about the Autumn Gala – and the play, Much Ado About Nothing. Well, we just got the cast lists and I'm going to be playing Beatrice! I can't wait! I mean, I'm still not thrilled at the idea of everyone looking at me, but it won't be me they're looking at, it'll be a character, so that's ok. Everyone got really good parts – there's only three people in the cast that I don't really get on with and, let me tell you, you'd need the patience of a saint not to strangle them.

We've started reading through the script now and we're all having a really good time – even Remus, who hates being in the limelight. Even the set and costume designs are coming together really well. It's not until November, but knowing your busy schedule I thought I'd mention it as early as possible. I'll understand if it's difficult to arrange, so don't worry if you can't come, but I'd really like it if you could. I've written to Henrì and Estelle, to see if they'd like to come – it's all for charity, you see, so we're trying to get as many people coming as we can.

No further on in the romance department, thanks for asking, but not for lack of trying. I believe I told you that there was a young man I was quite fond of, well that hasn't changed, and I have reason to believe that he's rather fond of me too, but there are particular circumstances that make our being together problematic and unlikely. I'm sure you can understand that. It is very frustrating though.

I'll write again soon, though I'll have to sign off for now, since Peter is apparently on fire again – at least it's not my fault this time (long story).

All my love,

Your 'Jenny Wren'

P.S. I've enclosed some photographs taken by my friend Frank, who seems to have made it his mission to immortalise the most embarrassing moments of our teenage lives – he's the one feeding Alice candy floss on Bonfire Night (Remus stole the camera for 'vengeance').

0o0o0o0

Dear Mr and Mrs Potter,

Thanks again for the socks, they were very much appreciated. I reckon James is writing to you too, so I hope I'm not stealing his thunder, but there's this play we're doing next year – the Autumn Gala – and I got a part. I'm playing Don John, who's this evil, conniving Prince bloke. Pretty much everything bad that happens in the play can be traced back to him. I'm hoping that this isn't a commentary on how I'm seen by the staff, but to be brutally honest, it probably is. James got a really good part too, but I'll leave him to tell you about that.

I was wondering if I could ask your advice on something – I don't really have anyone else to turn to. There's this girl, you see, and I really like her. In fact I think I've fallen in love with her. But I'm a bit of a rogue, you see, and I don't have the best reputation in the dating department – so much so that people are warned about me before they meet me. I've always been the sort that will walk out with anyone, if they smile at me – I never thought I'd ever want to think about something more long term.

I've been trying to change that, because she's great – beautiful, talented, intelligent and has a slightly evil sense of humour – but I'm scared it won't work. I mean, what if I ask her out and she says no? It's just never occurred to me before. Or worse, what if I ask her out and then I screw up later on? I really wouldn't want to hurt her, she's much too nice for anyone to want that. Maybe she'd be better off if I just left her alone. What do you think?

I hope you don't mind me writing to you, and I hope you're both keeping well.

Thanks again,

Sirius


	11. Fifth Aside, Moments of Weakness

"Start again at the top please, Mr Mulciber. Mr Rosier, that's two pages back. On you go." Professor Sprout sounded just about as enthusiastic as Eleanor felt. The Dogberry and Verges section of the play had never been her favourite, but the two boys just couldn't get it right.

Fair enough, they had the intrinsic stupidity down (though she strongly suspected that they weren't actually acting that), and they were beginning to learn the words, but their timing was appalling…

The net result was a performance that made anyone within hearing distance want to shoot themselves in the head.

Theoretically she should have been running through her lines with Remus, but he was currently being thoroughly distracted by Sirius, Thomas Abbot and Nathan Perks, who were putting an inspiring amount of gusto into a read-through of their first scene. Sirius appeared to have thoroughly embraced Alice's assertion that 'being evil was much more fun' and was working on a range of masterfully evil laughs, and all three of them appeared to be having an excellent time. Given this ample opportunity for distraction she supposed she couldn't really blame Remus for his absent mindedness – she'd also be enjoying their antics if it weren't for the blatant demolition of Shakespeare occurring in front of her (and causing what could be a very specific embolism in the front of her brain).

She rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes.

"Are you good men and true?"

"Yea, or else idd were piddy bud ddey should suffer salvation, body an' zoul."

It didn't help that Rosier had a bad cold – something she couldn't really blame him for (although she was giving it a good go) – and so the only half of the partnership with any apparent intelligence couldn't drown out his appalling counterpart.

"Nay, that…. was a punishment too good for them, if…"

"They should have any allegiance in them," supplied Spout in an exasperated voice.

"They should have any… what?"

"Mr Mulciber, can you actually read? No, don't answer that," she sighed. "That they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch."

Eleanor groaned. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey would have something for her headache; idly she wondered whether anyone would notice if she slipped out. _Probably_.

"That they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch," said Mulciber grumpily.

"Well, give dem deir charge, neighbour Dogberry," said Rosier, through his nose, before giving an almighty sneeze.

If this went on much longer she was reasonably sure her brain would actively start trying to escape from her skull.

"Miss Wren, are you alright?" Professor McGonagall's voice broke through the dire rendition of dialogue in front of her. She stared blearily up at her teacher.

" 'm ok."

McGonagall looked as though she highly doubted it.

"Mr Lupin," she called, wrenching his attention from his friend. "Would you escort Miss Wren to the Hospital Wing please?" She frowned at him. "And since you seem to be unable to concentrate this afternoon I would recommend that the two of you return to your Common Room."

Remus blushed, but only very slightly; he hated being caught out by one of the professors.

"Sorry Professor. Come on Eleanor – have you got all your stuff?"

They walked in silence to the Hospital Wing, the pounding in Eleanor's head diminishing as they progressed.

"Sorry, I should have noticed you weren't feeling well," he said, resting a gentle hand on the small of her back.

"No worries," she said. "Sirius is pretty distracting."

Madame Pomfrey had a potion in hand almost the moment she set eyes on her.

"Now I hope Filius has given you the remainder of the rehearsal off…" she said as Eleanor drank it down.

"Professor McGonagall gave us both the afternoon off," said Remus, watching Eleanor's features begin to relax.

"Good, then I shall leave her in your charge. I had a few Hufflepuffs in earlier, seems there was some sort of accident with a potted plant." Both Eleanor and Remus craned around the matron to see; it wasn't pretty. "I'm still trying to get the blasted thing out. "She needs sleep and some peace and quiet, Mr Lupin."

She strode off behind the nearby screen where her patients were gurgling softly. They shared a look of immense relief that despite all outward appearances someone in the world was still worse off than them and Remus shouldered her satchel.

0o0o0o0

"Come on then," Remus said, piloting her through the Portrait Hole.

"Come on where?" she asked grumpily. Remus cast the counter-charm on the girls' dormitory staircase. "You know if McGonagall knew that you could do that she'd have some sort of fit."

"Up," he said, helping her along.

"But-"

"You heard Madame Pomfrey, you need sleep."

He pushed open the door to the girls' dormitory; a high pitched whining was coming from somewhere in Alice's bed.

"Oh, yeah, that," said Eleanor, rubbing her forehead. "It's been doing that all day, we can't get it to stop."

Remus inspected the apparently singing book and came to a decision.

"Right," he said. "Pyjamas on."

"Wha-"

"No arguments. I'll turn _around_," he said, on her look.

"Why am I doing this again?" she asked, over the top of the sound of fabric being removed; Remus tried very hard not to think about that.

"Because Madame Pomfrey said to sleep," really, it was astonishing how level his voice was, given the circumstances.

" 'Cause I'm really going to get to sleep with that racket going on," she muttered, but his extra sensitive ears caught it, nonetheless.

"Exactly, which is why you're coming to our dorm'."

There was a pause.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Probably not, but I can keep an eye on you there."

"You can turn around now..."

He did, and swallowed as he watched her pull a jumper over the top of her pyjamas; you wouldn't think that a tank top and cotton bottoms could be _that_ alluring, but they were. Tearing his eyes from the delicate floral edging along the bottom hem of her top, he extracted her copy of the play from her bag.

"In case you can't sleep," he mumbled, and she followed him back to the boys' dormitory; as they walked he noticed that her toes were painted a deep wine red, and he was suddenly fascinated. So fascinated in fact, that when they reached the door to the dormitory he very nearly walked into it.

"Are you sure you don't need a nap too?" Eleanor asked, grinning, and he glowered at her.

"That's it, you. In," he piloted her through the door, pausing to close it behind him, and pushed her firmly but reasonably gently, so that she fell back onto his bed.

"Ooof," she said, mildly surprised; Remus strode towards her with a faintly predatory grin on his face.

"Uh, Remus?" she asked, a little worried about the Marauderish expression he was wearing.

"What?" he asked innocently, looming over her, expression mischievous and hands on hips.

"Um, what are you – aaaeeeiik!"

Remus laughed wickedly as he pounced on her and pinned her to the bed.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked.

"Ge- aaah! Get _off!_ Ahhahahaha! M-m-m-mercy!"

"I don't think I caught that Eleanor, could you repeat it?"

"No, stOP! Stop t-t-t-tickling me! You bast-aaaahahahaha!"

He tickled her sides and stomach, laughing with her as she shrieked and struggled and tried to throw him off.

"I don't think so, I'm having far too much fun!" he caught her arm as she went to push him away. "You see, if you didn't make such interesting noises then I wouldn't keep – oof!"

"My turn!" cried Eleanor triumphantly, holding him down as he struggled and treating him to the same torture that he'd recently been applying to her.

"No! Ahhhahaha! Gerrroff!" he writhed beneath her, desperate to avoid her questing fingers. "Ahhhahahaha! N-n-no you don't!" With one great heave he had her on her back again, straddling her thighs so she couldn't escape, pinning her arms above her head with his hands.

They looked at one another, laughing, panting and red in the face; slowly, as they stopped sporadically bursting into giggles, their faces fell. He let go of her arms.

"Sorry," he said, and pushed himself off her.

Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to keep the memory of those last few minutes fresh in her mind. When he brought himself to meet her eyes she was giving him a wry smile.

"Your bedside manner is a little lacking," she said. He chuckled and sighed, dropping his things beside the bed and sitting down next to her.

"That's why I'm not training to be a healer – patients talk back."

She smiled and made herself comfortable.

"Don't let me sleep for too long, I'll only get a worse headache."

"Ok," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

"Remus?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks."

0o0o0o0

It was with considerable effort that Remus tore himself away from watching Eleanor sleep. He sat himself down on the floor beside her and tried to concentrate on reading through the play and emphatically not giving in to the temptation of just settling in beside her while she slept.

He gave her half an hour before waking her; he brushed his hand through her hair gently and she snuggled closer to him, still half asleep.

"Eleanor…"

She looped her arm around his waist, sleepily.

"Ellie…"

"No… sleepy…" she mumbled.

"But…"

"C'm'ere," she said, pulling him down beside her and resting her head against his chest.

Remus reviewed his options: wake Eleanor up fully and be forced to sit at least a metre away from one another; extricate himself and leave her to nap for a little while longer; or, and this was by far his favourite of the three, allow her to nap for longer while curled up against him. She was practically pinning him to his bed anyway, and she was so warm and comfortable… he shifted slightly, allowing her to nuzzle her face into his neck. He swallowed. This was a _really_ bad idea, and yet…

He wrapped his arms around her warm body tightly. She smelled of honey and vanilla today, on top of her usually autumnal scent; he wondered idly whether the company that made whatever it was she put in her hair knew how tortuous a combination this was.

She was going to _kill_ him when she woke up.

He could feel her heart beating against his chest, slow and peaceful… he allowed his eyes to close… maybe she was right, maybe he _did_ need a nap… there were _hours_ yet before the others got back. It's not like he could move, anyway… and if they weren't doing anything wrong, just sleeping…

_Sleeping with your limbs wrapped around the girl your best friend has apparently fallen head over heels in love with… oh, Sirius would just _love_ to see this…_

Eleanor shifted in her sleep, curling her arms and legs around him. Somehow her knee had found its way between his legs and her thigh was now pressing up against… well, _that_ might be a problem…

Ignoring the stern and insistent voice in his head that was telling him that his best friend would kill him if he caught them, Remus pressed his lips against her forehead and settled down to nap. Sirius had all the fun, it was time he had the opportunity.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor awoke, warm, cosy and delightfully bereft of her headache; she was, however, a little confused to discover that she couldn't move. Opening an eye she was surprised to see the outline of a jaw… it had been dark for some time now, and the only light in the room was coming from the starlit window. It was a good shape for a jaw, she observed, staring at it – whomever it belonged to was snoring softly… his fringe falling across his eyes; she could just make out the vaguest tracery of a scar.

_Shit_.

She remembered falling asleep next to him, but she was _sure_ he'd been sat on the floor. Trying not to disturb him, she glanced down and blushed deeply… their bodies seemed to be… she searched for an adequate description: _entwined_. His arms were wrapped around her, hands possessively gracing her back and waist; her leg, she noted, was _between_ his thighs… she swallowed. Falling asleep was probably the least offensive option her slumbering self had left him with…

Now all she had to do was extricate herself from her current predicament.

The trouble was, it was a very _comfortable_ predicament, and the opportunity for such indulgence didn't often present itself… she breathed him in: all old leather and woods and peppery chocolate... it made her wish that the strength of the bond that held him to his friends, admirable that it was, would wane like the treacherous moon. Moving her hand slightly, she grazed her fingertips along the line of a scar on his neck, allowing them to follow it as it disappeared underneath his shirt…

He was going to _kill_ her when he woke up.

He swallowed – she froze.

"Ellie?" he asked, softly.

"Um…"

"I know... We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, but neither of them made a move away from the other.

"I know…" her fingers moved across his skin involuntarily, betraying her; he gasped and closed his eyes.

"Ellie," he said, and his voice was hoarse now; he was holding her tighter than he had before.

"I know…" she went to pull her hand away, but he caught it and held it in place. She looked up at him in confusion. When he spoke it was in that same hoarse whisper; it made her tremble.

"Please… don't stop…"

It took a few moments for his words to sink in; carefully, she rested her head against his shoulder once more. She allowed her fingers to caress the scar again and felt him shiver under her touch… the line of it was well beneath the fabric of his shirt now, and she slid her fingers around the topmost button, pulling it free and exposing his skin, pale under the starlight.

Eleanor was aware that her heart was hammering in her chest as she pulled the next button free and the next… he must have been able to feel the percussion of it against him… she slid her hand across his chest, watching in fascination as the subtlest trail of goosebumps followed her touch.

For his part, Remus was unable to feel anything other than the skim of her fingers over his flesh as she exposed the intricate network of scars that was his torso; he bit his lip hard as she traced the pattern of them, his breathing becoming ragged as she worked her way down his chest and her fingertips danced across his stomach…

He could feel himself rising to the challenge of her touch – and given how her thigh was pressing against him, she could probably feel it too… did she _know_ what she was doing to him? She smelled delicious, and he inhaled her intoxicating scent…

He couldn't take much more of this…

He gasped again as her fingers grazed the waistband of his trousers and he lost any remaining self control; he caught her hand in his and kissed her fiercely, breathlessly. Delighted to discover that she was responding with equal passion, Remus shifted his weight, pressing her down against his bed. Her hands were running up and down his back as he explored her mouth with his tongue; one of his hands had found its way inside her top and she trembled against him as it brushed across her stomach…

He moved lower, kissing the soft skin of her neck and collarbone, making her gasp and murmur with pleasure… she was still wearing that stupid necklace Sirius had given her for Christmas, and all at once Remus was seized with the mad desire to make it his; he followed the line of it with his mouth, nipping and kissing at her shoulder and neck. First down one side, then back up to the other – she caught his mouth in another fiery kiss as he paused, but not for long, he wasn't to be distracted from this – he followed the slender tendril of flowers down between her breasts.

_That's better_, he thought, _mine now…_

And what breasts they were, his mind registered dimly as he helped her struggle out of her top; pert and creamy and perfect beneath his mouth and hands. He gave them rather a lot of attention, something Eleanor seemed perfectly content for him to do, stroking his hair and back and arching up to him if she felt him pulling back. Finally, and feeling that there were other parts of Eleanor he'd rather like to experience, he recaptured her mouth, holding her tightly and kissing her passionately.

Eleanor shifted beneath him, and he felt her thighs press him closer to her as her legs curled around his hips; she could definitely feel how much he wanted her now, and the way she was holding and kissing and groping him back suggested that it would only be a matter of time… she moaned into his mouth as he let his hands stray eagerly in the direction of her pyjama bottoms, and she moved to help him –

_BANG!_

The force of the explosion shook the walls of the Tower and sent the two of them flying apart in shock and confusion.

"What the _fuck_?" cried Remus, reaching for his wand and unconsciously straightening his disarrayed clothes. "Stay here," he said and disappeared into a corridor that was rapidly filling with smoke, confusion and a few screams.

Eleanor pulled her top back on, missing his warmth and suddenly quite afraid; she picked up her own wand and crept to the door; Remus and a few of the seventh years were yelling at a group of fifth year boys from the dormitory next door. She thought she recognised a couple of them; the one who she'd seen take Prefect duty was looking particularly sheepish. Fortunately, most of the students appeared to be in various stages of undress, so she and Remus didn't look out of place.

Making a show of running up the stairs from the Common Room she hurried over to them.

"What happened – I was sleeping and there was this big bang – is everyone alright?"

Dominic Smith, a burly but well meaning seventh year, took her to one side.

"Just some idiot's idea of a practical joke," he said. "Though funnily enough nothing to do with Sirius or James… I think we can handle it, but a few of the younger boys are a bit freaked out – could you speak to them?"

She nodded, and Dominic waded into the smoke; Remus met her eyes as she passed him.

"Come on boys, into the Common Room please," she called, managing to shuffle anyone under the age of fifteen out of the crowded passage way and down the stairs. The Common Room was already full of bewildered and worried girls – the seventh year girls and fifth year Prefect passed her on her way down and she filled them in.

"What's going on?"

"Is the Tower on fire?"

She waved her hands to quiet them down but it didn't work; she pointed her wand at the ceiling and sent up red sparks. The panicking students shut up and stared at her.

"There's been a bit of an accident, the Prefects are handling it, nothing to worry about.

"Where are the boys?" asked a fifth year girl. "I mean – the ones from our year…"

"Well since they're the ones who caused all this I imagine they're still pinned to the wall outside their dormitory, getting carpeted."

Several people sniggered, there was the general air of tension relaxing.

"It'll probably take some time so I reckon you boys should stay down here for the time being…"

People started to mill about – Eleanor smiled, the girls had immediately begun grilling their male classmates over the accident; some days she was proud to be a Gryffindor. The Portrait Hole swung open and a worried looking Professor McGonagall came in. An expectant hush fell over the room.

"Miss Wren, what's going on? I've had reports from several of the portraits that there was some kind of explosion –"

"There was, in the fifth year boys' dormitory – I think the Prefects have it under control now…"

"Good. And you're keeping the rest down here?"

"Yes Professor, it seemed sensible."

Professor McGonagall nodded and strode up the staircase to the boys' dormitories; the entirety of the Common Room, Eleanor included, strained to hear. They didn't have to wait long. There was a collective wince as she laid into the unfortunate miscreants. The Prefects, who along with the seventh years appeared to have stopped whatever it was that was generating all the smoke, backed down into the Common Room, where they were immediately pounced upon by their housemates. All around the room, hushed conversations were taking place; periodically everyone would stop and wince as McGonagall's voice rose.

Eleanor didn't even need to turn to know that Remus was stood beside her, buttoning up his shirt and brushing the soot off his trousers.

"I think those clowns have just made themselves very unpopular," he said quietly.

"You think she'll take points?" she asked, eyes still on the stairs.

"Undoubtedly…"

Gently, and more than a little uncertainly, he took her hand; she gave it a covert squeeze before letting him go. If they were still treating their relationship as an impossibility (and after this evening she wasn't sure they would be) they couldn't let anyone see them.

Somewhere below her, someone giggled; Eleanor glanced down to see the owner of Lottie the unfortunate Pygmy Puff smiling up at her from an armchair. Eleanor frowned, but the tiny girl with pigtails that stuck out from her head at improbable angles looked her dead in the eye and mouthed 'I won't tell'. Eleanor gave her a grateful nod.

She glanced up at Remus, who hadn't noticed their cooperative spy, and laughed; he stared at her.

"What?"

"You've got a massive handprint on your face," she said, unable to stop herself smiling.

"Have I?" he asked, reaching for it, but she caught his hand, still laughing; he scowled at her.

"You'll only make it worse," she laughed. "Soot's difficult to get rid of."

He couldn't help it, he started chuckling too, and this time he didn't let go of her hand.

There was a second hush as Professor McGonagall appeared at the top of the stairs, leading five very pale and sheepish boys.

"These _fools_ had a moment of weakness and have just lost you fifty points," she said, and there was a collective groan – they'd been doing quite well so far this year. "I hope that there won't be a repeat performance," she said sharply, then her expression softened slightly. "The rest of you have behaved commendably however, and I hope the example set by the older students will be instructive in future such incidents," she glared at the five quivering boys behind her. "_Not that that will ever be happening again._ Prefects, seventh years and Miss Wren, in the corridor outside please."

She waited until the Portrait Hole had swung closed before addressing them; she was still very red in the face, but calming down now.

"You all behaved admirably, leaping to the rescue and removing innocent bystanders," she allowed them a rare smile. "Which is why I'm awarding you each five points for Gryffindor."

The assembled students grinned; that more than made up for the points that had been lost.

"But I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell that rabble," she said, "best get back to them," she said. "Er- not you, Miss Wren. Might I have a word?"

"Yes Miss," she said, watching a confused Remus Lupin climb back through the Portrait Hole.

"I wanted to thank you particularly," she said, to an astonished Eleanor. "You've not been here very long, and you haven't a position of responsibility, but you still managed to convince a room full of Gryffindors to remain calmly in one place – that's no mean feat, I can tell you."

"Um, thanks Professor," Eleanor said, blushing.

"I received a communication from your mother last week," she continued, and Eleanor's heart sank. "She wanted to know how you were getting on – I'll be writing to her tomorrow, is there anything you wish to bring to my attention?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"Excellent. I shall inform her that her daughter is acting as an example to the younger students. I trust you're feeling better?"

"Yes, much, thank you." Eleanor couldn't believe what she was hearing; chances were her mother wouldn't believe it either.

"Good. Might I suggest that you and Mr Lupin read through the play until your friends return from rehearsal? We need to show Mr Mulciber and Mr Rosier that acting is possible."

Eleanor couldn't help it, she smirked, and to her astonishment, so did Professor McGonagall.

"Good Evening Miss Wren."

He was waiting for her by the stairs when she climbed back through the Portrait Hole, and she sat on his bed as he tried to get the soot off his face. It took a while, but he eventually came back from the bathroom, face a little pink from where he'd been scrubbing at it. He sat down next to her.

"We should probably talk…" he said, slowly.

"Probably… I…" she looked up at him, and found that she didn't really need to say anything, since his expression matched her own.

"Yeah… me too."

There was a pause as they considered their options.

"We should probably reinstate the 'no bed' rule…" said Remus, quietly.

"Well I'd agree, except that there aren't any other seats in here."

"Well that's true… we could always relocate to the Common Room –"

"Professor McGonagall wants us to work on the play, which we can't very well do out there. Besides, we have to be able to be alone and near one another and not… well…" she felt her cheeks begin to turn pink. "Or we'll never be comfortable around each other ever again…"

"And neither of us want that," Remus nodded. He looked at her. "Alright, I'll stay over on this side of the bed and you stay over there."

Eleanor sighed, and took his hand.

"If we act like we're allergic to one another, someone will notice and ask us about it. It seems unlikely that a similar situation will arise any time soon – if it's alright with you I don't see any reason not to act as we have been doing, as close friends who happen to flirt."

Remus appeared to be having an internal war with himself.

"It's not that I don't want to be close to you," he started, then stopped as if he was afraid to go on.

"But…"

"But… I can't trust myself around you," he said, going really quite red. "And…" there was a long pause, as he screwed up his resolve. "Icansmellhowmuchyouwantme," he said, as if saying it faster would make it less weird.

Eleanor blinked.

"Come again?"

He sighed and stared at his feet.

"I can smell how much you want me…" he whispered.

Eleanor's mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

"Sorry…"

"I imagine it's not something you can control," she said, cheeks burning crimson.

"Nor you…" he said, and when she glanced over at him she saw that his smile was sliding up one side of his face.

"Well… I'll just have to behave myself, won't I," said Eleanor, privately thinking that this would be very difficult indeed. Then, "Still?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"It's really rather distracting," he said, continuing the study of his knees. "Intoxicating, even."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Forcing himself to look up at her, he passed over her copy of the play.

"Well, if we take those… 'limiting factors' into account we should be ok… but I don't think this – whatever it is – can last much longer. I just…" he trailed off and looked at her sadly; Eleanor bit her lip and nodded. She took a deep breath.

"So where do you want to start?" she asked, twisting around so that her back rested against one of the posts of his bed, legs crossed.

"Er- first confrontation?" he adopted a similar position across from her, noting her expression of resolution. She nodded, not even bothering to open her copy of the play; as she closed her eyes he realised that she was reading it from the script playing across the inside of her eyeballs. She really did love this play…

He found his place.

"If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is."

"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick; nobody marks you." She put such disdain in the sentence that he was afraid for a moment that it was meant for him.

"What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?"

"Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."  
>"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard<br>heart; for, truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me." The coldness of her tone was really beginning to worry him, her face was impassive, and he hoped it wasn't what he'd said before that had made her react so coolly.

"God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face," he countered, but much more gently than the line was intended.

"Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were," Eleanor shot back, but she opened her eyes soon enough to see his wince, and frowned; scratching hadn't made it worse, the scars were simply a part of him now. One day, when they didn't need to stay apart, she vowed she'd prove it to him.

"Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher," he mumbled, miserably.

"You know I did tell McGonagall that we were better at acting than Mulciber and Rosier…"

He shrugged, helplessly; Eleanor stretched out so her foot rested against his knee.

"I know you can do this Remus, just pretend you're channelling Sirius or something," she gave her a half smile. "Now there's advice I never thought I'd ever give anyone."

His lips twitched upwards at the corners, despite himself.

"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours," Eleanor continued.

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer," he said, thoughtfully. "But keep your way, i' God's name; I have done." It was still a little wooden, but he was treating her to the briefest flavour of scorn now, which was a good start.

"You always end with a jade's trick," she said softly. "I know you of old."

He smiled.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, his hand resting lightly and unconsciously on her outstretched leg. "What's next?"


	12. Sixth Aside, The Horror

It had been a difficult few weeks, what with rehearsals, trying to keep their friendship as just that and the vast quantity of homework, which on top of rehearsals was rendered almost farcical. Eleanor was glad that she didn't have choir, Prefect duty or Quidditch practice; she and Alice were often the only ones without dark circles under their eyes of a morning.

Keeping her hands off Remus was a lot easier than keeping her thoughts away from him, particularly in light of their recent moment of weakness. He was there every time her mind drifted, and invariably her mind drifted to some aspect of that evening, whether it was the way his skin had felt under her fingers, the urgent, almost ferocious way he'd kissed her or the way his lips had burnt and nipped and caressed their way along her collar bone and down between and all over her breasts. If she closed her eyes she could still feel him there, and that was downright irritating.

Of course, what made it worse was that he generally knew when she was thinking about him. She'd noticed it several times now: he'd be carrying on as normal as she glanced in his direction, then as she got all hot and bothered his eyes would widen and flick up to meet hers; then he'd raise one of those damned irritating eyebrows and she'd blush so hard she was certain whoever was sat in front of her would feel the heat radiating off her in waves. Unconsciously making her squirm was one thing, but looking so self-satisfied once he'd realised what was going on was bloody annoying. It made her want to sneak into his dormitory and fix a _really_ specific timed thundercloud to the underside of his bed hangings.

The last time it had happened the girls had been lounging around the Common Room having a detailed discussion of the merits of their male classmates; he'd been playing chess with Peter on the other side of the room, oblivious to the discussion until it had turned to him and Eleanor had let her mind get the better of her. His subsequent expression had been more than a little roguish that time, his eyes asking 'Well, _really_ Wren?'; Eleanor had had to scuttle off to her dormitory, throwing the bed hangings closed behind her and indulging in some much needed 'alone time'. She'd become very adept at muffling charms of late.

February brought with it an easing of the winter frosts and subsequently one hell of a lot of rain; more than a few students were approaching Madame Pomfrey for her powerful Pepperup Potion. Despite the large quantities of steam this created in the corridors, a few people had caught colds that just wouldn't budge; the beleaguered Matron had taken to turning those whose symptoms persisted back around and sending them up to their dormitories to sleep it off. There just weren't enough beds in the Hospital Wing.

The conversations buzzing around the half of the school that wasn't emitting great gusts of steams largely centred on Valentine's Day, something that Eleanor was decidedly _not_ looking forward to. The majority of her social circle now had more or less permanent significant others, leaving her, Remus and Sirius to fend for themselves.

Dropping into the seat next to hers in Potions one Friday Peter confided in her that he was worried about Sirius: he'd been neglecting his usual stream of nubile admirers. Needless to say, it put her in rather a glum mood.

"It's like he's sick or something, he's not even actively staring at girls… If me or James make a comment he just ignores us, like he's suddenly above us. I don't know, it's weird, like… I dunno."

"Like he's fallen in love?" she couldn't help herself asking.

The thought apparently hadn't occurred to Peter and he rubbed his chin absently, looking stricken.

"You might be on to something there… doesn't it say somewhere in the play that Benedick was almost sick for Beatrice? And he's really not himself… I wonder who it could be," he said speculatively. "Probably not someone he's gone out with before…"

"I'd imagine that narrows it down significantly," said Eleanor, trying to look interested in the frothing cauldron in front of her. "Although there's always the possibility of someone he has gone out with before, but has recently discovered he liked enough to be more than a one night stand."

"You know," said Peter, looking at her thoughtfully. "You sort of fit both of those criteria."

Eleanor blushed.

"I suspect I'm not his type."

"Well," Peter began, but took in her expression. "No, you're right, must be someone else…"

"To be honest, he's not really _my_ type, even if he is a great friend."

Peter's face suggested that that might well be why Sirius was acting so weirdly, but he let it go.

"Speaking of love," he said, adding some shredded shrivelfig to the concoction and turning pinker than the liquid he was stirring. "Me, James and Frank were wondering if we could ask you for some advice…"

"This is going to be about Valentine's Day isn't it," she stated in resignation.

"Er, yeah. Could we meet tonight? Say eleven o'clock in Flitwick's classroom?"

"I guess," she said, trying not to sound excited about sneaking out after curfew. It had been some time since she'd had sufficient reason to (in her mind, at least).

In the end, she arrived ten minutes early, and spent some time flicking through an interesting textbook that Professor Flitwick had left on his desk; it had some intriguing diagrams of specific wandwork, and she memorised the author and title for future reference.

"Great, you're here!" said James, heaving a worryingly heavy bag with him and dumping it on a desk; Frank and Peter followed him, the latter casting a quick disillusionment spell behind them. Anyone who glanced through the door would see nothing but empty desks now.

Eleanor settled on a table, eyeing the bag worriedly.

"Right, so Peter told you we wanted your advice," said James. "We're having a bit of trouble with what we're doing with Valentine's Day. Don't worry," he said, waving a placating hand in her direction. "Not for a prank…"

"We just want everything to be perfect for the girls," said Frank. "We thought if we ran things by you we won't have gone too far wrong."

She was still mildly dubious, but happy that they were trying so hard; Lily, Alice and Claire were lucky girls. _And I will be too, someday_, she thought.

"Alright," she said. "But I have to warn you, I've never even had a Valentine before, let alone a date."

"_Really_?" asked Frank, startled. "But you're lovely!"

"Thanks," said Eleanor, going a bit pink. "I'm going to put it down to the entire lack of young, faintly attractive males in the area. That and the caring if slightly overprotective natures of my housekeepers."

Frank grinned.

"You know, when you go back I'm not sure your housekeepers will know what's hit them," he said.

Flattered and a little embarrassed, Eleanor steered them toward the matter in hand.

"So who's first?"

"Ooh, me!" cried James.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I'm still over the moon about Lily – I never thought I'd have the chance to do something like this."

"Go on then."

James reached in his satchel and pulled out a small, leather bound box.

"That's not a –" started Frank, but James shook his head.

"Not that stupid – I mean, it's where I want it to go in the end, but we've only been going out for a couple of months, she'd lynch me."

Opening the box, he lifted a thin silvery chain with a delicate pendant in the shape of a tiny lily.

"Oh, that's lovely," said Eleanor, impressed, as Peter and Frank made noises of assent. James held up a finger.

"There's more," he said, and tapped the pendant gently with his wand. The tiny petals furled into a tight bud and unfurled into a larger, living flower whose petals were a silky cream spattered with the deepest pink; smaller flowers were bursting into life along the front of the chain and the necklace as a whole was giving off a faint floral scent.

"That's… to be honest I think she might actually faint when she sees it. Really James, that's just beautiful."

The boy beamed.

"I wasn't sure if it was too much."

"No, it's great," she assured him. "Particularly as she can wear it just as the pendant when she's not feeling particularly ostentatious – it's like that part of it is your secret."

If James smiled any more widely his head would probably fall off.

"And then there's the date," he said, carefully putting the necklace back into its box. "I know she's already asked if she can commandeer the dormitory –"

"Naturally."

"But first I'm taking her out to Hogsmeade – Puddifoot's first, but not too long in there in case our teeth begin to rot, then there's this mountain clearing we're going to walk to, and then back to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. Do you think that's ok?" he asked, nervously. "I just want to check, because the lads keep telling me that I'm off track with stuff for Lily."

"At least you've stopped calling her 'Cupcake'," said Peter.

Eleanor let that one go.

"I think she'll love it," she said, encouragingly.

"I'm taking Alice up to the Astronomy Tower – Prefect privilege," said Frank, proudly. "– and I'm going to give her this." He held out a bracelet of intertwining enamel ivy leaves, coiled into an elegant spiral. "Ivy's supposed to mean eternity… you don't think it's too much, do you?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"I think it's perfect – she'll love it," smiled Eleanor. At least someone was going to have a good Valentine's Day.

Peter looked a little nervous when she turned to him.

"I'm not sure she'll like mine as much, it's nowhere near as fancy," he said, pulling a small bundle out of his pocket. "I'm taking her to Puddifoot's too… but there's this clearing full of winter roses I thought she'd like to see – assuming we don't run into Filch or Marilyn…"

"It sounds wonderful," said Eleanor, and the boys nodded encouragingly.

"I'm going to give her these – they were my Grandma's…" carefully, he unwrapped two tiny white rose earrings that glinted prettily in the torchlight.

"Wow," said James, "are you sure, I mean if they were your Gran's…"

"If it were you, would you give them to Lily?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, yeah I would."

"That's how much Claire means to me," he said simply, wrapping the delicate petals up like treasure.

Eleanor smiled widely.

"You boys, you're enough to make a girl jealous."

"Aha," said James, buoyantly. "But we didn't want you to feel left out – particularly as you've snuck out to meet us and made sure we're not being tits."

He passed her the bag, which clinked.

"A crate of Butterbeer, liberated on a midnight raid some days ago, a pack of sugar quills, two Everlasting Gobstoppers and a packet of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Jelly Beans," he announced with a flourish.

"And," said Frank, "Prefect privileges when it comes to traversing the school after curfew for the next fortnight."

"And," said Peter. "If you ever need our help in the pranking department, you've got it."

"Really boys, you're spoiling me," said Eleanor, laughing.

James waved a dismissive hand.

"Nah, we needed you. Think of it as payment for services rendered," he said, with a grin.

"Don't let anyone else hear you using that particular phrase will you, or my reputation will be shredded."

Frank frowned.

"That reminds me: what's this I hear about you sneaking off with Remus all the time?"

"We're practicing for the play," said Eleanor, with as much dignity as she could muster. "McGonagall keeps saying we all have to show up the Slytherins, after all, and Remus needs all the help he can get with his confidence."

Frank nodded, accepting this, but James was giving her a sideways look.

"It's what you're doing to boost that confidence that's the question," he said, darkly.

"I beg your pardon?" asked Eleanor, shocked.

"Now Prongs," started Peter, admonishing his friend, but James cut over him.

"I'm not trying to be funny Eleanor, but he's one of my best mates, and I haven't seen him as down as he is right now since that time in first year when we were figuring out that he was a you-know-what. I was just wondering if your sneaking off was what was getting him down – or if he's said anything to you… I'm just worried about him, that's all."

"He's not said anything to me," lied Eleanor, hesitantly. "But he doesn't seem entirely himself at the minute, it has to be said… maybe it's just the play – I mean, he seems to really hate being the centre of attention, and there's no way of getting out of it. Perhaps it's just weighing on him is all." She made a mental note to tell Remus that the boys were worrying about him; if they were right about Sirius, it would be very inconvenient for them to be keeping a close eye on the two of them.

"You might be right," said James, but something in his eyes told her that either he didn't believe her or he had different ideas about what was bothering their friend. "Anyway, if we all keep an unobtrusive eye on him for the time being, I'd be a lot happier. I'll have a word with Sirius too."

"He's not himself either," said Peter. "I was saying to Eleanor earlier."

Eleanor swore, silently. _Why_ did they have to suddenly be so observant?

Frank rubbed his chin.

"You know, you're right, he's not," he said. "He's been moping around lately… in fact I don't think I've seen him get slapped for months."

"Eleanor reckoned he was in love," said Peter, pulling out a chocolate frog.

"Sirius?" asked Frank, incredulously. "No way."

"Actually," said James, thoughtfully. "You might have something there… Moony was saying he thought Sirius had a bit of a 'thing' for someone, way back in November."

Eleanor stayed quiet, she had a feeling she already knew who Sirius had his 'thing' for, and was fervently hoping that he'd come to his senses about it as soon as possible.

"Who for?" Asked Peter, interested, but James just shrugged.

"Well if it was November, that's when he asked Eleanor to the Gala…" said Frank, looking at her. Somehow, she managed to keep her expression reasonably blank.

"And I agreed to go as friends," she reminded them. "If you recall, he stumbled off with Trixie halfway through the evening – actually, I don't think any of you would have recalled, you were all rather distracted."

"I have to admit, stumbling off with some bit of muslin halfway through a dance is not the way I'd show a girl my undying love," said Frank, "but I'm thankfully not Sirius. His mind evolved in the gutter and as far as I can tell he has made no effort to escape… until now. This is the first time in six years he hasn't had plans for Valentine's Day, for example… and he didn't try to molest you at the Gala, and he didn't disappear under the mistletoe with anyone at Christmas."

"The only difference is you, Eleanor," said Peter, a little apologetically. "He was acting perfectly normally until you arrived, and you immediately made it perfectly clear that you weren't going to have anything to do with him… and then he gave you that necklace…"

"Just because someone feels like being generous at Christmas doesn't mean he's in love with someone, 'tis the season' and all that," said Eleanor firmly, though she didn't quite believe it herself. "Besides, Sirius gave James a watch for his birthday and they're not off shagging in broom cupboards."

_Although if they are_, thought Eleanor, _Lily will have a thing or two to say about it_.

"Yeah, but I turned seventeen," said James dismissively. "It's tradition. Besides, there's a bit more to it than that… he ran away from home in the summer and came to live with us – though you never heard that from me. I think it was his way of saying thanks."

"I suppose," she conceded. She'd never had guessed that he'd have such problems at home. At least Sirius's general attitude towards life made more sense now… although… "Maybe that's the reason he's started acting strangely," she suggested. "Maybe it wasn't because I arrived, but as a reaction to whatever happened at home. Perhaps part of him feels he has to be a bit more responsible."

Frank was looking at her as if she'd grown a second head, but Peter nodded speculatively.

"It makes a weird sort of sense," he said. "Especially as it's Padfoot… but that still doesn't rule out the fact that he could be pining for y- someone…" he trailed off. Eleanor had given him another Look.

"We'll keep an eye on him too," said James, giving up. "We should probably head back…"

Frank glanced at his watch and swore.

"That's gone fast," he remarked, jovially. "If I met me in the corridors I'd have to take points from Ravenclaw."

Eleanor picked up the bag, decided that it was far too obtrusive and pulled out her wand.

"_Reducio_," she said, shrinking it so it fitted easily in the palm of her hand. To the boys' surprise, she secreted it in her bra. "What?" she asked, on there stunned expressions. "Well Filch is hardly likely to search in _there_, is he?"

"You can be quite brilliant at times," said Frank, smiling fondly. "I can't help but think… you and these boys would make quite a team – I wouldn't like to imagine the havoc you could cause between you, if you put your heads together."

James and Peter grinned, and Eleanor was deeply flattered.

"Maybe we could put something together for the end of summer term," she said. "I'd be glad to participate, and I suspect Lily and Alice would be too, as long as no one tells Lily who she's helping."

"We'll take that under consideration Miss Wren," said James with a small bow. "I expect you have some fresh ideas we could use."

"Undoubtedly."

"You're a little frightening sometimes," commented Frank, easily, as Peter checked that the coast was clear. "I would keep friends with you, lady," he quoted, and Eleanor smiled.

"Do, good friend."

They parted ways at the main staircase, Frank heading deeper into the school towards the Ravenclaw Common Room, while the other three headed up the stairs.

"So, do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?" asked Peter, as they climbed through the Portrait Hole.

"Not as such," she said. "I'm intending to keep my head down and get some homework done. It's not like I'll get anything."

"Oh, I doubt _that_," said James. "You're dead pretty, have a masterful sense of humour and are still sufficiently new about the place to stay in people's heads. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you didn't have more than a few of the men of Hogwarts lusting after you."

"So delicately put," she scoffed. "I'm truly flattered."

"I mean it. Just you wait, come February the fourteenth you'll be being swamped by admirers."

Eleanor muttered something that sounded like: 'Even more reason to keep my head down,' and wished them both a good night.

"And I know who two of them will be," continued James, as she moved out of earshot. "I think we're going to have to keep a very close eye on her, Wormy…"

"Why? Because of Sirius? I know she keeps saying he doesn't fancy her, but it's fairly obvious to everyone else." James nodded.

"Not just him… remember when Moony and Eleanor were hanging out, just after she'd told him not to be stupid about his Furry Little Problem, and you said you reckoned he fancied her?"

"Oh bloody hell, I'd forgotten that!" cried Peter. "So Padfoot's down because he fancies her and she won't give him the time of day, and Remus is down because _he_ fancies her and knows Sirius does too?"

James nodded soberly; Peter put his hand to his head.

"Eventually one of them is going to make a move and the other one is going to _kill_ him! What are we going to do?"

"I don't know… maybe the first thing to do is to figure out which one of them _she_ likes, and go from there…"

"Well, she does spend a lot of time with Moony," said Peter.

"Yeah, but _studying_, it's not like they're snogging behind statues or tearing each others' clothes off in the dorm' or anything… although she did relinquish her pants to him last term," he added thoughtfully. "I can't see her giving them to Sirius."

"But that was the night the two of them disappeared for ages… you remember, Sirius didn't come back until well after two – I had to get up to go to the bathroom and I looked."

James sighed. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

"The trouble is, _both_ of them would work well as a couple… we'll just have to wait and see."

"And then run damage control with whoever she doesn't go for… or both of them, if she goes for someone else entirely – try to protect any innocent bystanders."

The two boys looked at each other. As if they didn't have enough to worry about.

0o0o0o0

The big day dawned slowly, as if the wasn't certain it really wanted to, after all, and might just stay in bed and read, thank you very much. Since it was both a Saturday and a Hogsmeade visit, both Lily and Alice were up early, chattering excitedly about the day ahead and unconsciously preening. They both looked beautiful, and Eleanor told them so. Eleanor, who fully intended to go to Hogsmeade and speak to the absolute fewest number of people possible and then return to the castle and hide somewhere until after midnight, wasn't really paying attention to her appearance, but apparently her room-mates were.

"You can't go to breakfast like _that_," said Alice, as Eleanor made a move towards the door.

"What?" she said, looking down at herself; she'd thrown on an old jumper and an ancient pair of jeans, not even bothering with a t-shirt or a hairbrush.

"It's Valentine's Day!" said Alice. "You should be wearing something that makes you feel fabulous…"

She was about to tell her that she was perfectly comfortable as she was, but stopped herself; the jumper was a little itchy, the jeans let in rather too much ventilation for February and her hair was, more or less, in the process of forming it's own anarchic government and fleeing for safety in every direction it could.

"This is a cunning plan not to get noticed, isn't it," said Lily, flatly.

Eleanor looked sheepish.

"But I don't _want_ any attention," she whined. "Not today, not from creepy boys who I don't know!"

"Well then, we'll just have to get you attention from the non-creepy boys you _do_ know," said Alice, matter-of-factly. "Remus and Sirius will look after you, or they'll have to answer to us. You shouldn't put yourself down on any day of the year, Ellie, because you're lovely."

Eleanor just stared at her; aware that she was being rude, she sputtered something akin to 'thank you' at her friend as Lily steered her back to her own wardrobe.

"Right," she said. "Alice, you go and inform the boys we'll be late for breakfast and not to worry, and that Remus and Sirius are required as chaperones for our lovely Eleanor today."

"But –"

"No arguments, Missy," said Lily, as Alice saluted and ran out of the room. "Right, jumper and jeans off, please."

"But _Lily_ –"

"You will do as you're told, or I'll hex you," she said, and Eleanor gave in. Sometimes it was just simpler. "You might be brimming with maiden scorn in the play, but today you're going to be the biddable one my buxom cousin. Strip."

By the time Alice had bustled back upstairs, Eleanor was stood in her underwear, shivering and grumbling under her breath as Lily rummaged in her wardrobe.

"They wait upon you," she said, as Lily shot her a look. "I sent Remus to scrub up – he seems to have hit upon the same cunning plan as you Eleanor. Although I have to say, he might have looked a bit messy, but it was actually pretty sexy. His clothes were all rumpled – messy hair, shoes untied, the works."

"I'll tell Frank," said Lily, smiling.

"No you won't, because you agree and from how she's blushing, so does Eleanor," Alice replied, grinning.

"You don't think I might be blushing because you two are making me stand here in naught but my knickers?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Oh… Look Lily, could you hurry up? I'm bloody freezing here," she said, trying to sound more annoyed than anything else.

"Patience is a virtue," came her friend's voice from the inner depths of the cupboard.

"A virtue is a grace, grace is a little girl who never washed her face," finished Eleanor, shivering.

"Morning ladies! Oh, sorry Eleanor, didn't realise you were changing," said Claire cheerfully as settled on Lily's bed.

"Neither did I," muttered Eleanor darkly, glaring at her. "You look lovely by the way."

"Thanks! The boys filled me in."

"And you didn't think that perhaps I required a daring rescue?"

"No, I thought I'd come up and giggle – I mean: 'give moral support'," she said, grinning.

Eleanor grumbled something extremely rude; all three girls ignored her.

"Here," commanded Lily, holding out a much newer pair of jeans. "And this top… and this jumper. Claire, you can have a rummage for jewellery – the box on the bedside table. Alice, you're on hair."

"I can brush my own hair!" protested Eleanor as Lily lost patience and simply held Eleanor's arms up, pulling the pretty, floral dress over her head. "Why am I wearing a dress with jeans?" she asked in resignation.

"Because it's February and the dress is short," said Lily. "Your go, Alice."

Eleanor sat on the bed with her arms crossed and a murderous look on her face as Alice somehow convinced her hair to stop its erratic vertiginous inclinations and instead frame her face with fronds of slightly tawny gold. Loath as she was to admit it, it looked really good. She even let them suggest light make-up; _in for a penny, in for a pound,_ she thought.

By the time she was ushered into the Common Room she was feeling much more herself, if only by dint of the fact that she'd been allowed to bring a coat.

_At least my jumper's not itchy_, she thought, surveying her chaperones. Sirius looked devilishly handsome as usual, and for once she didn't mind the idea of being on his arm. Remus was hanging back, looking rather like she imagined she did: mutinous; vaguely she wondered whether he'd been treated to a similar forcible overhaul by the boys. His hair was still defiantly messy however, and he ran his hand through it again to make it worse as she wandered over. Alice had been right, it _was_ sexy. Damn' him.

"You two look after her," instructed Lily, severely. Sirius snapped to attention and saluted, making both Eleanor and Remus roll their eyes; he poked Remus in the ribs until he did the same.

"Yes Lily," he said, with a sigh.

They made a very forlorn pair as they traipsed down to breakfast, following Sirius who was chattering happily to a nervous fifth year that had made the mistake of asking him for dating advice.

"You look great," said Remus glumly.

"You too. Sirius and James?"

"Sirius and James."

"Merlin help us."

"Let's think of it this way," he said to her as they crossed through the Entrance Hall. "We have the opportunity to spend a large quantity of time in one another's company, flirting is practically a requirement, we can't take it any further because there will never be a point where we're alone… I think we should just enjoy ourselves."

Debating the merits of this proposal, Eleanor was startled by a shrill whistle from the Slytherin table. Turning she saw Mulciber and his cronies raking their eyes over her appreciatively.

_Yeurch,_ she thought, raising a disgusted eyebrow. Both Remus and Sirius were suddenly very close on either side of her.

"Why don't you ditch those losers and join the real men?" rumbled Mulciber. "We can show you a really good time, over and over." He and his friends leered unpleasantly.

"Over my dead body," growled Remus, surprising everyone.

"That could be arranged, Golden Boy," said Mulciber, leering and flexing his muscles. "It won't take long, babe, and then we could be off – I know some quiet corridors where those scags wouldn't walk in on us."

"From what I hear Mulciber, you're more than prepared to take care of yourself," said Eleanor coolly. Sirius sniggered.

"Eh?" The mountain that was Mulciber's forehead creased in confusion.

Evan Rosier poked his friend in the ribs.

"I think she's calling you a wanker."

"I am, Rosier, well done. Would you like a gold star?"

Beside her, Sirius leaned back slightly and remarked to a livid Remus:

"She's good. We should piss her off more often."

"Listen here you little _bitch_, I could give you something you've never even dreamed of," Mulciber snarled, his brain finally catching up with the conversation.

This time both boys made angry moves towards their wands, but Eleanor took a step forward, drawing herself up.

"I can do without venereal disease thanks all the same, and frankly boys, I'd rather have sex with Slughorn. Enjoy Hogsmeade."

She turned, pulling Sirius and Remus after her and strode off towards the Gryffindor table, leaving the two hulking Slytherins sputtering after them.

She'd rather enjoyed the altercation, she realised as she tucked in to her toast. When they eventually figured out what they'd said to her she'd be in trouble, but hopefully it would be the summer holidays by then.

Remus was still shaking with anger beside her and she laid a soothing hand on his leg as she ate. Sirius too, kept looking over at the Slytherin table and glaring, but there really was a limit to what they could do in public.

"Let it go, boys," she said. "I was promised a pair of chaperones, not vengeful knights."

"He's odious!" spat Remus. "He had no right –"

"No, he didn't, and I called him on it. It's done with."

"He gets away with too much," said Sirius, angrily spearing a few rashers of bacon from a passing platter. "There was this girl, Mary MacDonald…" he trailed off as Remus shook his head.

"We don't know that for sure, Pads."

"We _do_ know he's a knobhead."

"No argument," said Eleanor, sipping her orange juice thoughtfully. "Who's Mary MacDonald?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look loaded with inaccessible and irascible information.

"She left," said Sirius shortly. He took a deep, calming breath. "So. I was thinking: Honeydukes, Gladrags and Zonkos today. That ok with you two?"

"I need to go to Scrivenshafts and Dervish and Banges," said Remus, still frowning.

"I'd like to call in at the Post Office," said Eleanor. "I need some wrapping paper and stuff, it's Madame Estelle's birthday and I want to send her some fudge."

"Madame Estelle?" Sirius raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Sounds like some kind of back-street dominatrix affair." Remus thwapped him with his fork.

"My aging and very sweet housekeeper," said Eleanor. "Who would skin you alive if she found out you even _thought_ you knew what you'd just accused her of."

"She'd love me, I'm Prince Charming, me," he grinned toothily, and Eleanor fought the urge to gag; Remus hit him with the fork again.

"Chew your food you uncultured mutt," he half-growled, still fuming about Mulciber.

"I'm not uncultured!" protested Sirius. "I've read dirty books in almost every known language – and some dead ones." He winked at Eleanor. "That is, dead sexy ones."

He shot back as the fork embedded itself into the table in front of him and reverberated with a hum.


	13. Seventh Aside, Alice Cottons On

By the time they had begun the descent into Hogsmeade, Eleanor was blushing so fiercely that she had to loosen her coat.

With the owl post had come several cards and small packages, all of which turned out to be from admirers, secret or otherwise. The first card, which she strongly suspected was James and Peter's way of ensuring that she didn't feel left out, was a garish pink heart-shaped creation that flashed erratically and read 'To our lady Marauder'; if she could figure out how to get the thing to stop flashing she knew she'd treasure it. The other cards however, she could do without.

There was one from Mulciber, enthusiastically describing precisely what he'd like to do to her (including a few things that she was sure he'd had to have help spelling); that one had been conspicuously incinerated at the table, purely for reasons of hygiene. There had been a card and a chocolate heart from Algernon Zabini, which had been rather flattering, and she'd thanked him politely as he kissed her hand, letting him down the gentlest way she knew how. He was every day becoming more like the gentlemanly Don Pedro, and he took her refusal well enough, adding his own instructions regarding her wellbeing to Lily's. He'd refused her return of the heart, assuring her that it in no way tied her to him; she'd watched him leave the Hall with all his dignity, her cheeks burning.

Frank's friend Nathan had provided her with a rather lyrical Valentine's card, which thankfully _didn't_ sing, although she'd been a little afraid it might. He too was courteously thanked and let down, and appeared to take it reasonably well, though his blush matched hers to the precise shade. There were two other cards, both anonymous, which had her glancing over her shoulder all the time she was in the Great Hall to figure out who had sent them. What made it worse was that the moment the post had arrived, several of the other single girls nearby had been shooting her envious glances; there really wasn't any way to tell them that they were more than welcome to her apparent hoard of admirers.

The gifts, which she had _really_ not been expecting, were even worse, somehow. Crabbe had sent her an origami flower, which she spent a few seconds staring blankly at; the image of the great hulking beast of a boy creating something so delicate completely astounding her. She'd slipped it in her bag when she thought no one was looking, and afforded him a brief smile, accompanied by a slight shake of the head. He got the message. Separated from the others, he blushed a little and smiled back; if they could only get him away from his brutish friends he might turn out alright…

Rosier, who was slightly more refined than his mountainous friend, had sent her a box of chocolates, the inscription under the lid causing much the same reaction as Mulciber's had; this time however, she had to concede that it was much better written. She'd shown it to Remus on the basis that he wasn't about to let her waste chocolate willy-nilly and he'd turned a curious shade of purple before obliterating it himself; across from them, Sirius had a face like thunder. Eleanor had a strong suspicion that Mulciber and Rosier would soon be visited by some seriously malicious pranking.

There had been one other gift: a long slim box inside which a single, perfect, charmed tea-rose had been carefully (and, most likely, magically) wrapped in brown paper and parcel string. Her very favourite flower. The petals were a beautiful soft peach, tipped and stained here and there with deeper oranges; the bloom gave off a faint but alluring scent. It reminded her forcibly and pleasantly of summer evenings in the garden at the chalet.

She was reasonably certain who this particular offering had been from, and she intended to treasure it, despite their standing edict of no direct association on Valentine's Day. She'd made sure that Sirius was glaring at Mulciber before shooting Remus a questioning look; his angry shade of crimson had shifted to much pinker tint and he'd given her that delicious half smile that took her breath away. Very carefully, she repacked the rose and wrapped the box in her scarf to keep it safe.

Still, progressing through the Great Hall and out into the meagre February sunshine hadn't been much fun, while she tried to avoid the stares, leering or otherwise, and her deep blush was soon adorned with a distinctly unimpressed grimace. Sirius, clearly feeling that something should be done about this, took her arm gallantly, making quite a few of the girls in the vicinity send Eleanor death glares. Not to be outdone, Remus took her other arm, only just resisting the urge to glare large pointy objects at his friend. She was soon being dragged along between her two handsome friends, with what seemed like the eyes of the entire school boring into the back of her head.

Needless to say, Eleanor was not a happy bunny.

She cheered up though, when they got to Honeydukes. The proliferation of dove-eyed couples meant that the usually jam-packed sweet shop was rather emptier than usual, and the three of them had a very good time rummaging through the shelves of exquisite chocolate. Eleanor found a pack of chocolates with slices of fruit that had been frozen in time that would be perfect for Estelle, and treated herself to a pack of sugar quills. She'd taken her time about it and met the boys outside; somewhat predictably, they were squabbling good-naturedly. Given the subconscious animosity that had been simmering away between the two best friends of late, it was a joy to hear.

"- honestly Moony I've seen you go through more chocolate in the last five and a half years than I've eaten in my whole life. If I didn't know better I'd say you were secretly a girl."

"And where does it say that only girls can enjoy chocolate?"

"Nowhere, but most men have other things they choose to indulge in."

"Now you're just being crass."

"Maybe it's because of your Furry Little Problem," said Sirius, effortlessly pronouncing the capital letters. "You know, like a girl getting PMS. Chocolate's the only thing that makes Evans safe to be around some months…"

"I do _not_ get PMS you oversexed fleabag," Remus hissed, as a group of unattached fourth years went past laughing. "I just like chocolate, is that a crime?"

"No. But you _really_ like it. It's not normal, right Ellie?"

"Don't bring me into this," she said, buckling up her satchel.

Remus just shrugged, but Sirius was developing the kind of grin that sent first years scattering to find cover.

"We'll just see about that," he said, and grabbed Remus's Honeydukes bag.

"Give that back!" cried Remus, making a grab for it, but Sirius danced out of his reach.

"Only if you admit that you're a girl!" he said, jumping back a few more steps.

"I am not a girl! Give it _back_!" he lunged forward, fingers nearly closing around the handle. Sirius took off down the street, Remus hot on his heels.

Eleanor sighed.

_I can't take them anywhere_, she thought, as she watched Sirius dart into the road that ran past Madame Puddifoot's and off into the mountains.

0o0o0o0

Somewhat to her surprise, Lily was having a really good day. She and James had been one of the first couples to arrive at Puddifoot's that morning and subsequently had been largely ignored as everyone else was being seated. She'd given him the broomstick servicing kit she'd bought for him while they were waiting for their tea and he'd looked as happy as a five year old as he leafed through the contents.

Her gift, he'd told her, would have to wait until the afternoon, when they were going for a little walk. She'd been a little concerned about this, given James's innate enthusiasm, and a large part of her was wondering whether they'd be back before nightfall.

One of the waitresses had just delivered a plate of dainty sandwiches and cakes when she caught movement outside the window. Her mouth fell open and James, who'd been watching her with a goofy smile on his face for most of the day turned to look behind him.

They watched in growing amusement as Sirius shot past the café and along the street, carrying what looked like a Honeydukes' bag and laughing maniacally. This apparition was closely followed by Remus, who was streaking through puddles to catch up with his friend, looking like he couldn't decide whether to hex him or burst out laughing.

Sirius came to a halt quite abruptly, falling to the ground, and Remus very nearly careened into him, spinning to see what had apparently felled his friend. A neat shot of blue light hit him square in the knees and he too, fell over, flailing wildly. Just as James and Lily were considering joining the fray, Eleanor came into view, wand drawn.

"Leg-locker curse," observed James, as Eleanor stopped next to her fallen chaperones, hands on hips.

Eleanor stooped and picked up the Honeydukes' bag before unlocking their legs with the air of one being put upon, but smiled at her boys as they dusted themselves off and grinned lopsidedly at her.

She must have asked them a question then, since they nodded, and she handed Remus the stolen chocolate. The boys looped an arm around each of hers and the three of them wandered off in the direction of Dervish and Banges, laughing uproariously.

"Well," said Lily. "At least they're providing entertainment for the rest of us."

James nodded and began to speak, but appeared to think better of it.

"What?"

"It – er – it doesn't matter, I'll tell you later," he said, offering her a French Fancy.

She took it, eyeing her boyfriend thoughtfully.

"You know, those three would make for one hell of a love triangle," she said, and James nearly choked on his tea, but he covered it well.

"Now there's a disturbing thought," he said, and the two of them laughed.

_And scarily accurate_, he thought, as Lily smiled over at him.

0o0o0o0

They didn't spend too long in Dervish and Banges, Sirius and Eleanor peering at the fascinating stands of magical watches and Sneakoscopes as Remus spoke to the owner. One of the clocks in the corner was ticking at five times the speed it was supposed to and chimed erratically, shooting out a very distressed looking wooden cuckoo that was clinging onto its stand for dear life and periodically vomiting wood shavings onto the workbench.

Sirius watched the bird for a few moments, catlike, before catching it on its next high speed pass and removing it from the stand. He set it down on the workbench where it wobbled unsteadily in a circle and fell over, relieved. Sirius glanced up at Eleanor and she shrugged. There wasn't much else that they could do for it.

"You know," he said, as they turned to investigate another stand, this one full of Lunascopes and tiny astronomical models, spinning contentedly in their glass jars. "I'm surprised you didn't already have plans today."

Eleanor sent a silent prayer to anyone listening that this wasn't Sirius's way of making a move.

"Really?" she asked, voice surprisingly calm.

"Really. I mean," he picked up a Sneakoscope and weighed it in his hand, thoughtfully. "You're smart, sexy, beautiful _and_ a great laugh. I'd have thought blokes'd be throwing themselves at your feet today."

"Well, a few tried at breakfast, if you recall," she said, feigning interest in an apparently empty case marked 'Invisibility Meters'.

"I mean nice blokes, like James or Frank… or Moony," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Well, Nathan's nice, he gave me a card."

"I suppose…" Eleanor drew a smiley face on dust of the cabinet. How much more awkward could this _get_?

"Well, here I am, single and unattached," she said, coming to a decision. If he was going to make a move, she would let him get it over with and turn him down as gently as she could.

"Yes, here you are," Sirius said, smiling slightly. _He really is very handsome,_ she thought. "And here _I_ am…" he sounded almost wistful.

He put the Sneakoscope back on the pile.

"Ellie, I wanted to ask you something," he began, but broke off.

"That's me sorted," said Remus, coming towards them. "Scrivenshaft's next?" he asked, taking Eleanor's arm.

"You dog, Moony," said Sirius amiably, "always living the high life."

"Oh shut up Pads," his friend smiled. "If you behave I'll buy you a drink on the way back."

"You're on," taking Eleanor's other arm.

0o0o0o0

As it turned out, Eleanor had forgotten something when they left Scrivenshaft's and rushed back to get whatever it was, leaving Remus and Sirius loitering in Gladrags. They spent a pleasant quarter of an hour trying to find the most outrageous clothing possible, and were just considering going to find their friend when she returned, out of breath.

"You alright?" Sirius asked, before Remus could get a word in. Again.

"Yeah, not a problem. Ran into some Slytherin girls who didn't like me talking to Rosier the way I did. They didn't seem to mind about Mulciber, funnily enough."

"Are you hurt?" asked Remus, concerned, but Eleanor gave him a bright smile that made his heart skip.

"Not nearly as much as they are."

She glanced at the fluorescent pink leg-warmers in Sirius's hands.

"You aren't actually intending to wear those are you?"

Sirius looked down at the offensive garments in his hands and flung them to one side, pulling her into a warm and inescapable bear hug.

"Really, Sirius, I'm fine!" she squeaked. "Remus, help!"

"No," he said, putting down the paisley patterned robes he'd been holding and hugging them both tightly. "We worry about you."

"It's our job," said Sirius, from somewhere in her hair.

"You just seem to get yourself in trouble so easily," continued Remus, from somewhere around her other ear.

"We can't help it if we want to look after you, Ellie. Don't scare us like that." Said Sirius, giving her an extra squeeze.

"And this coming from a couple of Marauders," she said muffledly. Sirius's jumper was warm and surprisingly soft. The combined scents of the two boys mingled around her, making her feel relaxed and warm; at that moment, she was guiltily aware that it would be easy to fall for both of them together. Fortunately they broke apart, all a little sheepish. "My knights in shining armour," she said fondly, looking at them both.

"At your service Miss," said Sirius, gallantly.

"Always," said Remus, more softly, and Eleanor understood that he was fitting a lot of what he wanted to say to her into just that word.

"Right. I need socks," she said, turning to the rack behind her.

"Oh do you now?" enquired Sirius, huskily. Somehow he was suddenly right behind her; she made a mental note to ask him just how he did that, some other time. "That could be arranged love – 'course we'd have to find somewhere more priv-OW!"

A pair of balled up luminous leg warmers bounced off his head.

Behind him, Remus folded his arms.

"You'd be invited too, Moony," said Sirius, playfully. "I know you've always fancied me – just think what we could do to him Ellie," he continued, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "He can be so straight-laced and conservative, we could break down his frumpy outer shell, you and I… Oh, how the two of us could make him squirm."

Knowing full well what she could do to the blushing werewolf in front of her and trying not to dwell on what she'd like both of these boys to do to _her_ (preferably at the same time), she shook off his arm and went to pay for her socks.

"That was out of line," said Remus, shortly, arms still crossed.

"Oh it was just a bit of fun, mate," his friend said. "Sorry."

Remus raised an eyebrow; it really wasn't like Padfoot to apologise.

"It's alright," he said. "But I think you embarrassed Eleanor."

They both looked at the girl, blushing furiously as she chatted with the shopkeeper.

"Oops."

"Yeah."

"Sorry love," said Sirius, as she rejoined them. "I got carried away, you know me. Didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, no harm done," Eleanor replied good naturedly. She shot Remus a questioning glance as Sirius turned to leave the shop, and he shrugged. Apparently Sirius was in an apologetic mood this morning.

Eleanor didn't want much in Zonko's, preferring to create less traceable havoc, so she watched the boys enthusiastically raiding the shelves. She did, however, pick up a few nose-biting teacups (just in case) and a fanged Frisbee for Peter's birthday.

She made quick work of the Post Office, having the assistant wrap the present for Estelle while she tickled the feathers of a beautiful tawny owl.

"She's a beauty," she remarked, as she arranged the postage of one of the nose-biting teacups to her mother, who she felt would rather appreciate it.

"Yes, one of our breeding owls," said the assistant. "We're hoping for a new clutch of tawnys at midsummer. We'll be selling a few of the littl'uns if all goes well, so if you're looking for an owl…"

Eleanor told him that she wasn't, just at the moment, but she'd keep it in mind.

"You could just use the school owls," said Remus as Sirius chatted up the girl at the till.

"I could for Estelle, but not for Maman," she told him. "Too conspicuous. Besides, I wouldn't want to weigh the school owls down too much over that distance, there are some incredible blizzards around home at this time of year. I wanted something tougher."

Remus chuckled.

"I wouldn't let them hear you say that, they tend to sulk if they think you underestimate them."

"Good to know," she smiled at him. It was so hard not to just take his hand; it felt unnatural not to. She glanced over at Sirius.

"I don't like the way he calls you 'love'," said Remus, following her line of sight.

"I don't think he means it that way," she said. "He's the same with Alice and Claire – and Lily, if she catches him off-guard."

"Yes, well. I still don't like it," he said, disgruntled. As inconspicuously as she could, she rested her hand on his back.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," she said quietly. "You know he's nothing to me other than a friend."

"I know."

"Good. Because if I weren't still off-limits I'd tell you that you were the only man for me," she whispered, and he smiled down at her.

"And then, if you weren't still off limits, I would kiss you," he said, softly. Her face twisted into a bittersweet smile.

"You know, if wishes were horses I could run my own stables by now," she said, wistfully, unconsciously toying with the sleeve of his coat. He chuckled.

"You and me both," he said, and nodded at Sirius, who was sauntering away from a breathless and swooning shop assistant. "What's next?"

"Dunno, I think I've got everything I needed from the village. You two?"

"Yes," said Remus, as Eleanor nodded.

"Right, well then I reckon it's lunch time," said Sirius, his stomach audibly rumbling. "Given the day I think me and Moony here should treat you." He gave Remus a rakish smile. "And I know just the place."

"I-" Eleanor was about to refuse their generosity but they cut her off, each taking an arm and steering her down the street, identical grins on their faces.

"Alright Padfoot, you're on," Remus said over the top of her head. "You pay for lunch, and I'll buy the drinks later."

"Deal."

Eleanor was confused. They were piloting her away from the Three Broomsticks and towards the slightly dingier end of Hogsmeade. The only things Eleanor associated with this part of the village were a rough pub called the Hogs Head – run by a gruff man with a strange affection for goats – and –

"Oh no," she said, realising too late what they were about. "No, no, no, not in there, not _today_," she groaned, trying to escape their suddenly vice-like grips. "Remus, you hate attention – everyone in there will be staring at us!"

"Precisely. They'll be staring at all three of us, which isn't so bad. Anyway, weren't you encouraging me to be more outgoing, just the other day?"

"I didn't mean like this!"

"Well then, you should be careful what you suggest," he gave her a Marauderish smile that made her knees weak. "Particularly if you don't want me and Padfoot to take you seriously."

"Game faces on people," said Sirius, as they reached the door.

"When we get out of here, I'm going to kill you," Eleanor hissed, before shutting up and putting on a brilliant smile. If they were going to drag her into this, then she'd have to play along for a little while at least.

Even the air was slightly pink.

0o0o0o0

It had taken Madame Puddifoot surprisingly little time to rearrange her face (and furniture) to accommodate the appearance of what was essentially a threesome, but Eleanor strongly suspected that an indignant letter to Professor McGonagall was already being drafted by the time their cream tea arrived. Frank and Alice were seated in the opposite corner and were largely ignoring them, after their initial nods of acknowledgement and rolling eyes.

Several of their neighbours were shooting them funny looks as the three of them pretended to be head over heels in love with one another. They made a great show of fawning over one another as they dined, Sirius even giving Remus a peck on the cheek as he refilled his hideous pastel teacup. The flash of annoyance in Remus's eyes had been very well covered, and no one outside the immediate vicinity caught it, especially since Eleanor had insisted in an undertone that they be as subtle as possible, partly to ward off any repercussions and partly because it would look more realistic.

"I'm so glad we've got to spend this time together," said Sirius, simpering. "Particularly here."

"Yes," agreed Remus, adding cream to a scone. "It's such a perfect place for our tryst… it really seems absurd that we didn't think of it before. A capital suggestion, old chap."

"I'm full of excellent ideas," said Sirius, and Eleanor had to hide her scoff, taking a French Fancy from the tray in front of her. "It's probably one of the many reasons you two darlings fell for me."

"Oh, I should say it was for your bad parts," said Eleanor, as Remus fought to control his expression.

"Bad parts?" asked Sirius, suddenly feeling that whatever script Eleanor was reading from, he hadn't seen.

"Oh yes," she smiled. "For all of them together, which maintain so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them." She grinned as Sirius cottoned on. "But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?"

It was Remus who took up the challenge. He chuckled.

"Suffer love! A good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will."

"In spite of your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart!"

Sirius didn't know Beatrice's lines as well as Eleanor, but he had a go.

"If you spite it for my sake then I will spite it for yours – I never can love that which my friend hates," he said, eyes sparkling. "And on that note, my loves, I shall go settle with our delightful hostess."

Their delightful hostess, Remus noted, was watching them hawk-like from the door: nostrils flaring and eyes narrowed.

They were going to have some explaining to do later.

"You were right," said Eleanor, softly. "I really have enjoyed today."

"It's been wonderful," Remus agreed. "Though in some ways I do wish it were just the two of us." He leant over and kissed her cheek. "Gods willing," he whispered, "next year will be, and I promise I'll make it one to remember."

Smiling up at him, barely an inch away from her, Eleanor entirely forgot where they were and why doing precisely this would be an extremely bad idea, so she leaned towards him and kissed him tenderly.

It wasn't the hottest kiss they'd shared, nor the most lingering, but it spoke volumes for the both of them. They broke apart, and quickly returned to their cups of tea as if nothing had happened; it had been done so slickly that anyone who saw it would have assumed that they'd been sneaking around for months, but this being Madame Puddifoots, no one did see them.

Well, almost no one.

"What were you saying about Remus and Eleanor the other day?" asked Alice, as Frank took another sandwich from their plate.

"Hmm? Oh, I heard a couple of people saying that they keep disappearing off together – but I asked Eleanor about it and she said they were just practising for the play…"

"Did she? Well I suppose that makes sense…" said Alice, watching as Sirius rejoined his friends and the three of them continued to wind up the staff.

"Yeah, apparently Remus is really nervous about it. James was a bit worried about it actually, said he'd been really down lately. We're keeping an eye on him."

"How interesting," said Alice, as both Sirius and Remus leant in to kiss a preening Eleanor on each cheek. When they pulled back Remus lingered for just a fraction longer than was necessary. You wouldn't be able to see it if you weren't looking for it. "I'd best keep an eye on them too." As they were leaving, Remus's hand grazed Eleanor's back, but only for a moment. And only for a moment she glanced back at him, a tacit acknowledgment of a touch that shouldn't strictly happen between friends.

"Him, you mean," corrected Frank.

When Sirius bowed deeply to Eleanor and lightly kissed her hand Remus's face darkened, and he seized her other hand almost possessively. You wouldn't see it at all if you weren't looking for it…

"Yes…"


	14. Eighth Aside, Tacit Permission

At Sirius's insistence, they spent a merry afternoon in the Three Broomsticks, which was emptier than usual since most of the usual clientele were otherwise engaged. That said, the village residents who generally made themselves scarce on the appearance of a large volume of Hogwarts students, along with several hilariously rowdy teachers, had retaken the pub. The three of them had found a reasonably empty corner and had spent much of the last few hours simply watching their teachers being drunk.

"I'm telling you, if we slipped the odd shot into Minnie's pumpkin juice she'd not give us half the detentions we've got so far this year," said Sirius, gesticulating wildly with his Butterbeer.

"Yes, and then when she sobered up she'd let Filch at us with his thumb-screws," said Remus, as Professor McGonagall giggled girlishly at something Professor Sprout had just said. "Honestly, I've never seen people put drink away like that lot are."

"You can't really blame them," said Eleanor, finishing her drink. "They have to put up with you lot the rest of the time."

"Oy," said Sirius, smacking her lightly and good naturedly on the arm. "We're not that bad."

"Yes we are," said Remus, with a smile. "I'd have thought you'd have counted it as a mark of our success that we've driven some of Hogwarts finest teachers to seek solace in the bottle."

"I happen to know for a fact that they've been heavy clandestine drinkers for a while – it can't just be us. Imagine what having to deal with pillocks like Mulicber every day is like. We, my good friends," and he gestured widely to include the both of them, "are a veritable breath of fresh air!"

They looked back over at their teachers as Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn began singing a bawdy goblin tune, Professor Flitwick conducting them cheerfully with his tankard.

"There is really no way we can justifiably be held responsible for _that_," said Sirius. "That's years of unruly classes at work, right there."

"Yes, but you have to admit you must be a contributing factor," observed Eleanor.

"We keep them on their toes, that's all," said Sirius firmly. "About time for a refill, eh Moony?" he wiggled his tankard at his friend, who nodded and collected their assorted drinking vessels, fingers _accidentally_ grazing Eleanor's hand as he picked up her glass.

"Same again?"

"Please."

"Actually, I fancy a mead if you'll stretch to it."

"No worries, lunch was _fabulous_ darling," Remus drawled, making Eleanor giggle.

"See, I told you he fancied me," Sirius grinned as Remus joined the long queue at the bar. He was just behind Professor Sprout who noticed her student and clapped him on the back merrily, nearly knocking him over. Sirius and Eleanor roared with laughter; whatever Professor Sprout was saying to Remus was making him alternately blanch and blush, and it made for entertaining viewing. He must have heard their laughter as he turned and gave them his most ferocious glare at the earliest opportunity. They stuck their tongues out at him.

Still watching her hapless tutors, Eleanor became aware of Sirius's eyes on her.

"What?" she asked, turning to look at him. He was wearing that same wistful expression he'd had in Dervish and Banges. Somewhere in the back of Eleanor's mind, alarm bells began to go off.

"Ellie, can I ask you something?" he asked, quietly. She nodded and Sirius took a deep breath.

"Have you ever… no it's silly," he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Go on Sirius, whatever it is is clearly bothering you."

"Well, ok, but you're not allowed to laugh… have you ever fallen in love?"

_Shit._

"Er…"

"See, I told you it was silly," said Sirius, unhappily. "Forget I said anything." His body language said quite clearly that the matter was closed.

Eleanor shut her eyes briefly. Why did everything have to be this damned complicated?

"No, it's not silly. I have, actually."

"You have?" Just the barest glimmer of hope was shining from behind his armour. She'd never really noticed it before but Sirius always seemed to hide behind something – his garrulous friends, his larger than life personality, his sexuality, his rather odd sense of humour. She wondered what it was that he was hiding from.

"Yes, I have."

"Recently?"

She tried really hard to ignore the hope in his voice.

"I'd probably have been too young for it really to count as love if it weren't."

"Oh, I dunno – look at James and Lily."

"I think that's more of a lasting obsession that has _matured_ into love."

"I suppose," he was quiet for a moment, giving her a sidelong look, as if he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Is it supposed to hurt?"

"What, love?"

"Yeah…"

Eleanor thought about this.

"Well, when you're little everyone tells you that it's all love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-after, but I think that basically that's bollocks. There's a wealth of literature from the past millennium suggesting that it's akin to torture – I suspect I could subject you to a lengthy philosophical debate on the matter, but that's not what you're after is it?"

"No… so, it's not _supposed_ to hurt, but generally it does?"

"So it would seem. But there have to be good bits too, otherwise it's not love but obsession… and that's just not good for anyone."

Sirius appeared to consider this, his handsome features darkened in contemplation.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh… er… can you keep a secret?"

Was Sirius actually _blushing_?

"Yes."

"Right, well, there's this girl." He shot her another sideways look. "She's funny, and smart, and sexy, and lovely… and I think – I _know_ – I've fallen for her. Sounds a bit girly when you say it out loud like that," he said, frowning at himself.

"Not really," Eleanor said, trying not to look as panicked as she felt. "Men fall in love too – it's just part of life."

"I suppose…"

"But?"

He flashed her a twisted and eloquent grin.

"But," he said, "I'm not good enough for her."

A faint hope awoke in Eleanor.

"You've spoken to her?"

"No," he said, and the Eleanor in her own mind smacked her head on an imagined desk. "But I know it – I'm an arrogant, oversexed prat. I cause trouble wherever I go – and I enjoy it – I'm unstable, I upset people without meaning to, I'm uncouth, and frankly, a bit of a whore. She's everything I never thought I'd want… and I'm just a mess," he finished miserably.

Despite how potentially dangerous this could be, she couldn't let her friend continue like this.

"Well to hell with that, Sirius, you're not that bad –" she began, but he gave her a look that was equal parts disbelief and abject distress, and she stopped. "Do you remember that night you boys were sneaking up to the girls' dormitory and you ran off with my knickers?" she asked, and he looked up at her, confused.

"Yeah," he said, wondering where this was going.

"And when you hexed me I just broke down?"

"Exactly – all I can do is mess up! Ow! What was that for?"

"Interrupting," she said, folding her arms. "You noticed that I was upset and you did something about it. You looked after me and then stayed with me until I felt better. Those are not the actions of an arrogant, oversexed prat."

He looked at her, thinking it through.

"Even if mostly I was trying not to imagine you in naught but your underwear?"

Eleanor winced internally.

"You're a teenage boy, that's par for the course."

"Hmm," he said, ruminating.

"And at the Autumn Gala, you were the perfect gentleman," Eleanor continued.

"Yeah, until I abandoned you and ran off with – how did you put it? A 'bit of muslin'?"

"That _was_ a bit…"

"Whorish."

"Stupid. But I didn't mind, and you and Trixie were clearly enjoying yourselves."

"Still…"

Eleanor sighed. One way or another Sirius was going to have to sort himself out, and she was going to help him, even if it meant staying apart from Remus for a bit longer. He'd understand.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Pardon me?"

"You're not going to spend the rest of the year moping about are you?"

"Well…"

Eleanor gave him a Look.

"I don't really know _what_ to do," he clarified. "I mean, usually I'm just about love them and leave them – or nip off to the nearest broom closet between classes and leave them – but this is just love them and love them, and… well, she deserves more than I know how to offer. A girl like that warrants the royal treatment –" he looked up at her, "-like _you_, for example. If I were going to seduce you, I wouldn't be messing about with all my usual tricks – for one thing you'd see straight through them, and I wouldn't want to hurt you."

Eleanor blanched, but he didn't seem to have noticed.

"I've been trying to be more responsible – not running off with the nearest totty, not making lewd suggestions all the time – I'm even trying harder in classes, _and_ in the play – and I'd hoped that would be an opportunity to get to know her better … but…"

"You still don't think it's enough?" Eleanor tried hard not to remember how much he'd wanted to play Benedick…

"No, I don't… and on top of that I'm really bloody horny all the damned time."

He sat back, a picture of frustration, and Eleanor filed that particular outburst under 'too much information'.

"I can see why you're feeling a bit off…" she said, and he grunted. They watched Remus sag with relief as Professor Sprout reached the bar and turned her attention to her order.

"Listen, Sirius. Am I right in thinking you haven't approached this girl yet?"

"Not in any conventional way…"

"Right, so you're not tied to her, not really?"

"Other than the fact I can't even shut my eyes without seeing her? No, not at all," he grumbled.

"Well then what's wrong with seeing someone else for a few hours?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not like you and 'Miss Perfect' are actually dating, is it?"

"No…" he said, following her line of thought.

"Then surely it would be alright, every so often, to see someone else. If nothing else, you'll be less frustrated, and you never know, it might make her a little jealous."

"She really doesn't think of me like that, Ellie."

"Even so. Trixie's over there, you know," she nodded to the corner behind her and watched as his eyes followed the line of the buxom seventh year's body.

"I've been trying not to notice…" he said, wretchedly; he looked at her. "Is it really alright, Ellie? I mean –" he bit his lip. "If it were _you_ I'd fallen for… and you knew what I've just told you…"

Eleanor leaned forward slightly.

"Sirius, are you asking my permission?"

He looked at her for a good few moments.

"I… Yes. I reckon I am."

"You're really not my type you know."

"I know," and this time his smile was much more like the devilish Sirius she knew. She leaned back again.

"Then I'd say go for it. If you're not going to do anything sensible about this, then you may as well enjoy Trixie's company before she finishes school this summer. If this girl is in our year," she raised an eyebrow and he nodded, "then you've got all summer to sort yourself out."

He stared at her for a moment, then his whole body relaxed.

"Thanks love," he said, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Eleanor shrugged. She appeared to have cheered Sirius up at least… If she'd needed any confirmation that it was her he'd fallen for, he'd just given it. _Great_.

She gave Remus a half-hearted smile as he returned with their drinks, indicating on his questioning look that she'd tell him later. Sirius was once again his happy-go-lucky self, and chattered along cheerfully with Remus; Eleanor suddenly didn't feel as talkative as she had earlier. She drank her Butterbeer rather more quickly than she'd intended and was soon left staring out at the crowd of revellers with nothing to do. She noticed Frank and Alice leaving the pub and absently wondered how long they'd been there; she waved at Alice, but the other girl mustn't have been able to see her, as she left without a second glance.

She'd been debating making her own way back up to the Castle – it was dark outside now and torches were flickering in their brackets – when a shadow fell across the table. Both her friends tensed; she knew without looking that Sirius was already holding his wand under the table.

"May I have a word with you, Eleanor?"

"You may bloody not," Sirius snarled. Remus stayed quiet; whatever there was between him and Severus he was clearly not proud of.

"I rather think that's up to me, Sirius," said Eleanor pointedly.

He was about to argue, but she didn't give him time.

"Remus, would you look after my stuff for a minute? Thanks."

She piloted Severus around the tables and out of the pub.

"Was coming up to me when I was sat next to Sirius the most sensible idea you've ever had?" she asked as they stamped their feet in the cold.

"Probably not, but it was now or never," he said, trying to chafe some heat into his hands.

"What was?"

"I had to talk to you – now don't look like that, this isn't some ill-advised moment of Valentine's Day foolishness," he smiled, and Eleanor noticed that when he did he looked younger, healthier. "I've been meaning to speak to you for a while but the opportunity hasn't arisen. I wanted to thank you again for your help last month – and to give you this –" he held out a package wrapped in sleek black paper. "It only just arrived – really, you'll have to forgive me but my intentions are about as un-romantic as you can get."

Eleanor smiled, a little relieved.

"Believe me that's a delight to hear, after the day I've had," she said, taking the proffered package and beginning to unwrap it with numb and uncooperative fingers. Severus chuckled.

"Yes, I heard about Mulciber and Rosier… and the girls. Algie told me you'd been very kind when you turned him down too… and given your _chaperones_…" he gave her a hard look. "Just what have you been doing to the male population of Hogwarts?"

Eleanor contrived to look withering.

"No really Wren, if I didn't know you better – and if you were Slytherin – I'd say you'd been brewing love potions."

"I'll take that as an attempt at humour."

"As it was meant," Severus smiled.

"Wait, _Algie_?"

"We have an… alliance of sorts. Neither of us are particularly impressed by the other goons in our house," he paused, and smiled. "Since we're Slytherin we have a mutually beneficial relationship: he can prevent most of the in-house damage my… status incurs, and I can prevent him from failing Potions."

"That's good," said Eleanor. "It's nice to know that you aren't stuck in there on your own." Finally managing to get into the tightly wrapped package she gave a little squeal of delight. "Oh Severus, you shouldn't have!"

"Yes I should," he said, smiling. "I've _never_ healed that fast, and since I knew how much you enjoy Potions..."

Eleanor grinned as she prised open the case of 'The Advanced Potion Master's Kit': inside were a series of no-nonsense crystal vials and silver instruments, along with several paper packages of rare ingredients. The accompanying book was satisfyingly practical looking and, from the look of is as Eleanor gave it a brief flick through, informative. Carefully, she closed the case again, and gave Severus a kiss on the cheek.

"You really are a peach, Severus," she said, and grinned at him. "For a Slytherin."

"You aren't so bad yourself," he said, "for a Gryffindor."

They grinned at one another as the door behind them opened.

"Ah, there you are," said Remus amiably; if Eleanor hadn't known him as well as she did she might have missed the slight tension in his voice. "Sorry to interrupt, but Sirius said that if one of us didn't come out he was going to hex Snape into the next century." He sounded almost apologetic. "I thought that perhaps it would be less explosive if I were the one to come out – although given how impatient he is it's only a matter of time…"

"Thanks," said Eleanor. "Better go then, I suppose," she added to Severus, who nodded.

"Not to worry. See you in Potions?"

"Absolutely, and thanks again," she grinned, and turned to go back into the pub, but Remus was still stood looking at Severus.

"Look," he said, looking deeply uncomfortable. "About last year –"

"I know," said Severus. "It wasn't your idea."

Eleanor looked from one boy to the other, trying to work out what they were talking about.

"I shouldn't have let them –"

"You didn't know… and I should have respected your privacy."

From the way they were both wringing their hands, bodies tense, she guessed that this was a moment neither had suspected would ever come.

"Still… I'm sorry. And thank you for not –"

"I was ordered not to… but I wouldn't. Not anymore."

Remus nodded.

"Well then," he said, and turned to go.

"Lupin?" Severus sounded uncertain now.

"Yes?"

"What you said – at the Gala – thanks…" he said, quietly.

"Oh – er – no problem…" he glanced at Eleanor before continuing, and again she wondered if she were intruding on something. "Er – did it help?"

Severus gave a hollow laugh.

"No," and he too glanced at Eleanor, though his eyes seemed to be saying something different than Remus's had. "Did it help you?"

"Not at all," Remus chuckled.

This time as they turned to leave there was a new acceptance in the boys' faces; a tacit acknowledgment of a truce neither of them had expected, but neither of them would reject. As they strode off in opposite directions, Eleanor wondered what on earth it was she had just witnessed.

0o0o0o0

"I can't _believe_ him!" said Remus angrily as he and Eleanor walked back up to the Castle, the golden lights from the hundreds of windows spilling out into the cold grounds. "First he's all over you and then he goes off with that trollop!" he spat, his breath forming an angry cloud of steam above his head.

"Calm down, Remus!" cried Eleanor. "And Trixie isn't a trollop – at least, I've never seen her sneak off with anyone other than Sirius…"

"I wish he'd just bloody well make his mind up!" he growled. "And then either I could try to get over you or kiss you until your toes curl up – I'm just sick of being stuck in between the two!"

He was really angry now, and when he turned to her there was a tinge of amber in his grey eyes.

"And you don't help! Being all beautiful and kind and funny and _there_! Driving me wild without knowing it – you _have_ to know you're doing it!" he snarled, and for the first time Eleanor was a little afraid of him. "And he takes your arm and holds your hand and puts his arm around you like no one else cares! And he calls you 'Ellie' and 'love' like it's his _right_! Like he's claimed you, and you're MINE!" he shouted, face only inches from hers. Eleanor fought the urge to back away, recognising that it wasn't just Remus who was screaming at her, but the wolf too; if there was one thing she knew about wolves it was that if something ran their instinct was to chase, and Eleanor knew without a doubt that there was no way she'd ever be able to run fast enough.

"_Mine_," he said, breathing hard, and the angry swirl of amber in his eyes had almost hidden the grey. Eleanor was suddenly very glad that it wasn't full moon for another week and a half.

"Not his…" he reached out a hand to her face, and she knew that he could tell she was shaking; his fingers felt rough against the skin of her face. She could see the hurt and anger in his eyes – although she'd known Remus was hers if she could only take him, she hadn't realised that the wolf might want her too.

Without thinking and without fear she wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face into his warm shoulder; she felt him start in surprise before his arms encircled her body. She could feel him shaking with anger still, heart beating fast.

"Mine," he growled into her hair, but she didn't let go. No matter how angry Remus was, she was willing to bet that neither he nor the wolf would try to hurt her.

"Yours," she said simply, though her words were largely absorbed by his jumper.

He pulled away from her then, still holding on to her arms, and she could see that the grey was returning to his eyes as he searched her face.

"Both?" he asked, and she understood that the wolf was asking if she meant him too.

"Both," she said, and kissed him gently. "I'm always yours."

"Padfoot is pack," he said, slowly.

"Yes, it's something of a problem," she agreed.

"My human is right to wait," he said, and took a half step away from her, agitated. "It is making him… unhappy."

Eleanor gave him a grim smile.

"He's not the only one."

He looked away into the dark grounds for a few moments, and when he looked back the amber was just a light smudge across his eyes.

"You are worth waiting for," he said, firmly. She watched his confident expression fade to one of horror as Remus once more assumed control.

"Ellie? Oh Gods – did I hurt you? Did I –"

Eleanor didn't let him finish, and held him tightly until he stopped panicking.

"I'm fine – you didn't hurt me, just gave me a bit of a scare, that's all." She felt him sag against her in relief.

"Thank Merlin," he said, and pulled away. He walked a little way up the path and sat on a large rock, taking long, shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry – I don't usually let him get the better of me like that," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"Does that happen often?" Eleanor asked, sitting down beside him.

"Not really… I mean, it used to a lot more before the boys worked out that pushing me to my absolute limit wasn't a very good idea – I start feeling a lot more wolfish when I'm angry."

"I suppose that's why you've cultivated an almost endless supply of patience."

"Yes…" he looked up at her. "You remember that first time we kissed?"

Eleanor blushed.

"You mean that time you dragged me out of the library and pushed me up against –"

"That statue, yes," he finished, uncomfortably. "The closer it is to full moon the more the wolf can push me – so it wasn't him chasing after you, it was me, but with considerably less self control. What you just saw was him controlling my body…" he trailed off, suddenly afraid that this would be the moment that Eleanor saw sense and made a run for it.

"I don't think he'd hurt me," she said, staring off into the dark forest.

"No, he wouldn't," said Remus quietly. "He likes you… well, you heard."

Eleanor took his hand, looking up at him.

"And you both heard me, right?"

"Yes… though you know I don't think I ever doubted it."

"Good."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Remus," Eleanor asked, softly. "When you change – it's not really you, I know that… is it really the wolf?"

"No. The werewolf is the worst of both of us – he hates it as much as I do… we get on quite well the rest of the month. Although, having said that, he thinks I'm a bit of a wimp most of the time."

"I don't think he's right," Eleanor said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I think you're just brave in a quiet way – I mean, I saw how hard it was for Antoine just to get through each day…"

"Your housekeeper's nephew?"

"Yes… you know, his own mother threw him out when he was bitten. Wouldn't even

acknowledge him when she visited… she was furious when she found out that Henrì and Estelle had taken him in, wrote to Maman and tried to convince her to get rid of him. He was fifteen," Eleanor shook her head. Antoine's mother had not expected quite the reaction she had got. "Maman made sure that he had a comfortable room in the chalet, provided food and good tutors and rebuilt the barn so he could transform in there and not hurt anyone. He used to give me piggy-backs when I was little… then, when I was thirteen, some local boys broke into the barn to take a look at what was making all the noise. None of them were hurt, thank Merlin, but they ran back to the village in terror. You can imagine what happened the next night – they chased him out of the province… people can be so stupid."

"They were afraid."

"They had no reason to be," said Eleanor firmly. "And when his new neighbours found out about him in Toulouse, they didn't do anything – they recognised that he wasn't a threat – they just treat him like anyone else. And they're Muggles."

Remus laughed out loud at that.

"You know, that's one of the reasons I love being around you, Ellie," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You give me hope."

Eleanor leant against him, chuckling.

"You know," he said, a frown creeping onto his face and into his voice. "If Padfoot eventually does declare his undying love for you I don't know if I will be able to give you up…"

"I was thinking the same thing," said Eleanor, sadly. "We're not very good at this 'not acting on our feelings thing', are we…"

They sat in glum silence for a few minutes, until the oppressive cold forced them to move their numbing limbs and start back up the hill.

Remus gave a great sigh.

"Thou and I are too wise to woo," he said.

"Peaceably."

"Hmm? Oh yes, I know. But _thou_ and _I_ are too wise to woo."

"_Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably_," repeated Eleanor.

"Yes well, Beatrice and Benedick didn't have to worry about Don John's feelings, did they."

"Oh…"

"I still can't believe he went off with Trixie like that," grumbled Remus as they reached a small circle of standing stones at the crest of the hill.

"Er-" said Eleanor, and Remus turned to look at her.

"What?"

"I was going to tell you before you went all wolf-man on me…" she told him about the unsettling conversations she and Sirius had had in Dervish and Banges and The Three Broomsticks. By the time she'd finished they were halfway up the Great Staircase.

"Well, bollocks," said Remus, with feeling. "I guess we were right about him then…"

"Yeah…"

"He asked your _permission_…"

"Yes."

"Like you were…"

"Yeah."

"Bugger," he said, and appeared to think about it some more. "Zebra bastard, bastard zebra _fucker_!" he said.* Several nearby portraits stared at him, scandalised; one of them was covering the ears of a young lady who must have been his daughter. She was giggling.

"Feel better?"

"Sorry," said Remus, looking sheepish.

"I don't think 'zebra' is actually an expletive."

"No, but it's fun to say…"

"You know, I've been thinking… since Sirius is knowingly off with someone else tonight…"

"_We_ could be off together somewhere?" Remus finished, thoughtfully. "He _did_ ask your permission…"

"Which is tantamount to giving me _his_…"

They looked at one another.

"We couldn't… could we?" asked Eleanor; Remus looked at his watch.

"Well we've missed dinner, either way…" he said. "Want to drop off our stuff and go in search of sustenance?"

"That's the best offer I've had all day," said Eleanor, happily, taking his arm. "Except I can't leave my stuff in my room – Lily asked if she and James could use it tonight."

"Well, you can leave it in mine if you want… 'Cassiopeia'."

"You watch your mouth young man," said the Fat Lady imperiously as she swung forward to admit them. "Violet's been telling me you've the most inventive uses of the word 'zebra' she's ever heard."

"Shut up," he said to Eleanor as she sniggered at him. "Give me your bag, I'll just drop them up-"

"I wouldn't," said a voice behind them. It was Corin, the Pygmy Puff torturer. "I made the younger girls go to bed," he said, and Eleanor remembered that that included his sister. "It was just a bit too weird."

Eleanor cocked her head to one side. The sounds of someone moaning in pleasure were emanating from the direction of the sixth-year boys' dormitory, along with rhythmic thumping.

"Oh. Lovely," she said.

Remus made a face.

"Alright, wait here a moment," he said, and ran up the stairs. Abruptly the noises stopped. "He always forgets silencing charms," he said, coming back down. "Sorry about that Corin – quick thinking about the younger kids though… where are the boys?"

"Holed up in the dormitories. It's quieter in there… we're taking it in turns to warn people off," he said.

"Well… you shouldn't need to from now," Remus said. "I'd try to get some sleep if you can."

Despite herself, Eleanor nearly laughed; the younger boy had very nearly saluted.

"So," said Remus, taking her arm. "May I have the honour of escorting you tonight Miss Wren?"

"Indeed you may, Mr Lupin," she laughed. "Particularly since it appears that neither of us is likely to get any sleep this evening."

"Where are we going?" asked Eleanor, as Remus led her through the dark school.

"The kitchens," he replied, pausing before a large oil painting of a bowl of fruit.

"Why does it not surprise me that you, a prefect, would know how to sneak into the kitchens? _Surely_ they're out of bounds."

"I may be a prefect," said Remus, with a roguish grin. "But I am also a Marauder, and you –" he said, reaching out and tickling the pear in the painting, "–are worth breaking a few rules for. Besides," he said, as he helped her through the painting. "The vast majority of our teachers are probably _still_ getting drunk in the Three Broomsticks… believe me when I say that Professor Sprout would be in no fit state to discipline _anyone_." He shuddered.

"What was she saying to you, anyway?"

"I'm not telling you," he said, firmly. "Ever. Ah, here we are… Evening chaps!" he called brightly, as a veritable hoard of house elves approached them, chattering excitedly in their high pitched voices. "This is Eleanor, and I promised her an evening to remember –"

"Hello," said Eleanor, giving a small wave.

"But we seem to have missed dinner – do you think you could help us out?"

"Absolutely, Sir!" cried an elf near Remus's knees. "Hoskin will be glad to help, Sir!"

Remus beamed down at the elf, which only seemed to make him and his friends more excited.

"Thank you, Hoskin," he said, and knelt down beside the elf to whisper in his bat-like ear. Eleanor craned to hear him, but she couldn't hear a thing over the general burble of delighted elf-kind. Hoskin gave an impressive salute for someone of his size and the elves scattered about the kitchens, apparently intent upon their own missions.

"I'd be prepared to eat a lot," said Remus quietly as he led her to a reasonably secluded corner of the first cavernous room. "They're really enthusiastic."

"So I can see," said Eleanor, watching a table and chairs appear as if from nowhere, being set at lightening speed. "I didn't know they could move this fast."

"It's why you tend not to see them at work – it's a matter of pride to them."

"Well I think they do a splendid job," said Eleanor, loud enough for the nearest elves to hear her. They seemed to grow a few inches and scurried off so fast that she had to shake her head to keep from seeing spots. "Sweet Merlin."

Remus grinned.

"Now, Miss Wren, if I might take your satchel? Thank you. I'm afraid I must ask you to shut your eyes."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

Eleanor bit her lip.

"Yes."

"Then close your eyes," he said, walking behind her and covering her eyes with his hands.

There was the sound of quite a large amount of movement occurring at roughly knee height; she could feel his body pressing against her back and his warm breath on her neck. She relaxed against him, and heard the slight hitch in his breath that this caused.

"Remus…"

"Yes, my love?"

Eleanor smiled.

"What are you up to?"

"Something devious, I assure you."

"Ah, good. Here was me thinking we were just having dinner…"

"We are… ah, I think you can open them again," he said lowering his hands.

The elves had surpassed themselves; where before had been nothing but a dusty corner there was now a table set for two, complete with a candle and a rose in a jam jar. The elves were nowhere to be seen.

"May I?" asked Remus, pulling out a chair for her; Eleanor took her seat, amused and flattered by his gallantry.

"I meant to thank you, earlier," Eleanor said. "For the tea-rose. It's beautiful."

Remus beamed.

"It's charmed not to fade," he said. "And you're welcome. I couldn't let today go past without _any_ acknowledgement."

"Nor could I," said Eleanor, extracting two packages from her satchel. "I wasn't going to give them to you today, but since we have 'permission'…"

"Thank you…" Remus said, unwrapping the first box. "Oh, Ellie, this is great!" She smiled fondly as he carefully picked through the writing kit. "I've always wanted a decent set of quills, but I've never been able to aff-" he broke off, laughing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. "Although it's sort of a selfish gift…"

"How so?"

"I like watching you write," she shrugged. "And this way I'll be absolutely certain that you'll write to me over the summer."

"I would have anyway," he said, chuckling. "Before I open this," he said, hand lying over the second package. "I have something else for you… I was going to save it for a special occasion, but I suppose this sort of counts."

He passed her a small leather box and bit his lip. Lifting the lid she found a slim chrome bracelet, the metal twisting on itself around the circle. Tiny vine roses were engraved on both sides.

"It's _beautiful_, Remus…" she said, holding it up to the light to admire it.

"It's a Möbius strip," he said. "It's a surface with one continuous side formed by joining the ends of something after twisting one end over on itself…" he continued, aware that he sounded embarrassingly like a dictionary. "It symbolises infinity… or eternity… here," he said blushing. Leaning forwards, he tapped the bracelet with the tip of his wand. Subtly, and as if they'd always been there, words formed amongst the vines and leaves and flowers. Twisting it around, Eleanor read the inscription:

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom. **_

She smiled.

"Sonnet one hundred and sixteen…"

"You do love your Shakespeare… I mean every word."

"I… I love it, thank you."

"You're welcome," he beamed as she slipped it onto her wrist.

"Your turn."

"Oh, right," he said, realising he'd been gazing at her. He glanced up at her as he applied himself to the wrappings; she was fingering the bracelet absently, a warm smile on her face. He grinned.

"This is –" he said, staring at the book in his hands. He opened the cover: "Signed!"

Eleanor had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing out loud; he'd practically squealed.

"Well I saw that your copy was from the library, and I thought, since I know him…"

"It's brilliant, Ellie, thank you! I – thanks!"

They beamed at each other.

00oo00oo00oo00

*I hold my other half Erador and his mate JaffaCakeLover fully responsible for this. They found this 'Buffy swears' soundboard on the internet and now when I'm really peeved (or if I stub my toe or something) _this_ is what comes to mind.

** There should be a rhyming couplet at the end of this sonnet (as with all sonnets) but I didn't think the words suited. The sonnet finishes as follows:

_If this be error and upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._


	15. Ninth Aside, Soliloquies

I'm muttering to myself again, but seeing as this is rehearsal and everyone else is busy practising their parts with someone else I'm not out of place…

_There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit._

Limits. There are always limits – a limit to what's polite, a limit to how far you push, a limit to what you can do – and I seem to overstep them all. I don't even know I'm doing it, most of the time, and people assume I don't feel bad when I figure out I have. But I do. I just don't show it. Blacks don't show it.

_And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?_

My reluctance to show anything other than jollity – this mask I wear – another hang up from my family. Ah yes, my family. The 'Great and Noble House of Black'. So great and so noble in fact, that everyone I love wilts and decays in their presence… and so was I. I had to get out. Had to.

_I wonder that thou, being (as thou say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goes about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief._

No way back now. Not that I'd ever want to go back, not that I miss them. Not at all.

_I cannot hide what I am._

Back there I was a beloved son, a prince among wizards, a paragon of nobility… but I wasn't happy. Not really. I wasn't even _me_. Out here I'm blood traitor, a disgrace, a disappointment. Friend to muggleborns and werewolves. If my family could they'd probably hex me into oblivion, except for the scandal that would cause. Out here I'm nothing… and bloody proud of it.

_I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour._

That's how they all see me, of course: the bloke who won't let anything get to him… except… it does… and I think a few of them are beginning to notice. James, and Peter. Moony too… Well of course _they'd_ notice, they're my best mates... but even Alice's shooting me worried looks every so often… and after my outburst in the pub at Valentine's, Eleanor can't be blind to it. She's the only one that really knows what's going on, and I didn't even tell her half of it. How could I?

_I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any._

She's so kind and understanding… she's over there now, running though lines with Moony… if only she could… but no, it wouldn't work. And who am I to interfere?

_In this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain._

And what good, honest, lovely girl would want that which I am? Eleanor's wrong. I could never be good enough. Even the teachers see it…

_I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage_.

And it's not all I am, not by a long shot… but there's enough of me that's like that that they're right. I shouldn't even be near someone as good as her… my princess…

_If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me._

But I can't quite forget her, so I try to be good and honest and right… a man she'd want to fight for her… but I'm not really sure that that's me either. And that is my discontent… I can never be enough of one thing for anything. All I can do is manage mischief.

_I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here? What news, Borachio?_

It's something I am good at. And let's be brutally honest, there aren't a great many of those.

_Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness?_

Even James thinks I'm a bit of a tit. He'd never say it, because he's my best mate, and you just don't, but he _thinks_ it.

_Who? The most exquisite Claudio?_

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Evans recently he might have picked up on my 'disquiet' a little more. Not that that's anything new – it's always been a struggle getting coherent sentences out of him when she's in the room.

_A proper squire! And who? And who? Which way looks he?_

And not that them being together is a bad thing; James _is_ being less of a prat (not that I'm any better), and she's getting more devious by the day. They're good together.

_A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?_

He's still up for a good prank though, and Evans seemed to enjoy it to, however much she tries not to show it… and that is a brilliant way of distracting me from _her_.

_Come, come, let us thither. This may prove food to my displeasure_._ That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow._

The way her hair falls about her face… or the way she smiles when she reads something witty… or the way her legs go right to the top… or that sparkle in her eyes when she laughs… or the way she doesn't take my shit…

_If I can cross him in any way, I bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me?_

Right. Distraction. It's been way too quiet at dinner lately… time for something to explode again I reckon. Moony's patrolling tonight…I wonder if Pete's free, and James… maybe Frank'd be up for it, if it doesn't end up hurting anyone. Seems like there's more Marauders around every day, now.

Urgh. My stomach's rumbling again. Lunch was ages ago…

_Let us to the great supper_.

Oh great, _thanks_ Shakespeare. Remind me of food.

_Their cheer is the greater that I am subdued_.

Look at them – Peter and Claire – laughing together like a couple of newlyweds… Gods how I envy them. That kind of happiness, that easy, sweet, brilliant love could never be mine… But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop wanting it, wanting _her_… So I'll just keep trying to be what people seem to assume I am: kind, funny, brave, happy… when really I'm none of those things.

_Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done?_

I don't want to end up the villain of the piece…

0o0o0o0

I'm supposed to be working through a scene with James and Algernon, but I can't concentrate properly. Alice is distracting me… it's her eyes…

There's something bothering her. It's been there for weeks now, behind the smiles and laughter… and I don't know what it is. I know it's not me… it's not there if it's just us… but when we're with the others something changes in her eyes. They're sharper, darker, like she's watching, on edge. I wonder what she's seeing…

_No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor._

It gets worse when Remus is around… and Sirius I think. I know she doesn't fancy them – well, apart from the basic 'look-but-not-touch' appreciation that we're all lumbered with – and besides, I trust her. If she were having second thoughts she'd tell me. Which means she's worried about _them_. And Eleanor… she's a bit strange around her too, these days.

_By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought._

I wonder if there was any truth to those rumours about Remus and Eleanor after all… They do seem to be pretty close sometimes… and they're playing their parts beautifully… which is odd, because not only does Remus hate attention, he's also a bit tense around girls – poor chap – and he has to kiss Eleanor a couple of times… I don't think they've practiced those bits too much. I wouldn't, if it were me.

Which brings us back to the possibility of Sirius falling for Eleanor. Well, less a possibility and more a certainty, if the outward signs are anything to go by. Huh. Remus _and_ Sirius going for the same girl?That would certainly make _me_ worry about them…

_O God, counterfeit? There was never counterfeit of passion that came so near the life of passion as she discovers it._

I wonder what Eleanor thinks about it… if her fervent denial of Sirius's affections is to be believed then Remus might be in with a shot… Then again, she might be madly in love with Sirius and not willing to admit it… Girls make _no_ sense sometimes.

_What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how._

She and Remus are running through the scene in the church now, after all the chaos of the failed wedding… they certainly seem earnest in their affections… but then, this _is_ a play…

_I would have sworn it had, my lord – especially against Benedick._

Maybe I'm reading too much into this – maybe there's nothing wrong at all. I mean, we're all teenagers, and this part of life is supposed to be one of the most traumatic… But then there's that look again, in her eyes…

_No, and swears she never will. That's her torment._

She's running through lines with Claire… who, bless her, keeps making eyes at Peter (those two!)… but Alice hasn't noticed, she's too busy watching Sirius, who's pacing in the corner. He must be going through one of his scenes on his own… his lips are moving, as if he's speaking, but it doesn't look like anyone can hear him… he certainly doesn't look happy… but again, that's how his character is _supposed_ to look. Alice's eyes haven't left him for a moment, even though she's still running lines…

_This says she now when she is beginning to write to him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all._

And now Sirius is glancing over at Eleanor and Remus… one of them has fluffed a line, and they're laughing… he's got his hand on her arm… I wouldn't even have _thought_ to look for it if Alice hadn't been…

_O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found 'Benedick' and 'Beatrice' between the sheet._

_Surely_ not… but now they're doing that private smiling-at-each-other thing that Lily and James do when no one's looking… the one that says there's some private joke that no one else is getting… But then, the Maruaders do that look _all the time_, and they're not… _are_ they? It doesn't seem likely… but then, stranger things have happened, particularly around here.

No. Remus is much too modest and shy to ask her out. Even if he does like her, he won't do anything about it.

_O, she tore that letter into a thousand half-pence, railed at herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I should flout him if he writ to me. Yea, though I love him, I should.'_

Sirius really doesn't look happy… although it _is_ nearly dinnertime, and his mood _does_ tend to plunge alarmingly if food doesn't arrive on time. He can be such a drama queen. Honestly, he's like a big puppy sometimes…

_She doth indeed; my daughter says so; and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself. It is very true._

I don't think he and Eleanor would be a good match (dear Gods, I'm beginning to sound like my Mother – urgh)… he's too much the rogue, and while she certainly doesn't let him get away with anything – and has proved time and again that she can be just as devious – she's much more reserved.

_O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and guardian._

And much kinder… she and Remus would work… if only he'd do something about it.

_Were it good, think you?_

In the end, it's really no one's business but theirs… but Alice won't see it like that. She won't interfere unless she feels she has to – and she would never do anything to hurt them – but sometimes her kindness can get the better of her…

_If he do fear God, a' must necessarily keep the peace. If he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling._

My angel, always trying to do the best for everyone. I hope she never changes, not even for a moment – but then, any change would be for the better, as impossible as that seems… Even so, I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe one, though it's part of why I love her…

_Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first._

She worries too much…

0o0o0o0

You know, we're so very lucky.

_Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise._

I don't think about it, normally, but we are.

_And bid her come hither._

I mean, me and Alice have always got along brilliantly – with the odd delightful smattering of bickering, of course…

_No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this._

… and Hogwarts has always been a welcoming place…

_My cousin's a fool, and thou art another. I'll wear none but this._

… but _now_, with Eleanor and Claire, and spending time getting to know the boys, and James being so unexpectedly wonderful…

_O, that exceeds, they say._

… _now_ it feels like home.

_God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is exceeding heavy._

Even Severus has relaxed a bit, now it looks like James and I are going to work… I never thought of him the way he thought of me, but he's still one of the best friends I've ever had. Despite his questionable taste in companions… Mind you, it's not like he could choose them, it's the luck of the Sorting Hat so they say… and he and Algernon seem to be staying away from Mulciber and his troll-bred cronies…

_Fie upon thee! Art thou not ashamed?_

I'm blushing again, and hopefully people will think it's just good acting, but every time I hear that line I think of James, and what he would feel like if _he_… but that's inappropriate here, even just in my head. Best to think of the girls instead.

_Good morrow, coz._

When I left my home and got on that train for the first time I never imagined what I'd find was a family, but I did. It took time, but here we are. Always there for one another when we need it, with a comforting shoulder and a willing ear…

_Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?_

… and, naturally, willing to drive each other to distraction. That's how families are supposed to be. I hadn't realised how much I've missed that… missed Tuney…

_These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume._

But some things can't be helped, no matter how hard you try, so it's best not to dwell on them. Better by far to think of my friends here…

_There thou prick'st her with a thistle._

Because it doesn't matter how far we push one another, we all know that we'll be there when we're needed, no matter the cost.

_Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. _

That's the thing about sisters…

0o0o0o0

I'm watching them again… I hope no-one's noticed…

_Troth, I think your other rabato were better._

I've been watching since Valentine's…

_By my troth, 's not so good, and I warrant your cousin will say so._

… and I was right. There is definitely something going on between those two.

_I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, I' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so._

They're so familiar with one another… sharing private jokes, helping each other with books or bags or plates of food, smiling at one another when they think no one's looking…

_By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of yours – cloth o' gold and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side-sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't._

The only thing I can't figure out is _why_. I mean, I can think of a few reasons to hide your affection for someone, but when you're both willing… and the thing is…

'_Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man._

Merlin, that line… it makes Lily blush _every_ time… and to think my Mum and Dad will be hearing this…

The thing is… they _are _willing. More than willing, really. At the post-quidditch victory party last week they were drunk – everyone was drunk – and they were… If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have seen it, (and if Frank hadn't been on patrol I wouldn't have cared) but the more firewhiskey Remus drank, the closer he seemed to get to Eleanor… and the less concerned with privacy either of them became…

_Of what, lady? Of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would have me say, 'saving your reverence, a husband.' _

They didn't even look around to check that everyone else was, well, occupied… although to be fair, by that point it was a fair bet. They found themselves a secluded corner and started kissing as if their very souls were alight… as if there was nothing for them outside of one another…

_And bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody. Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband'? _

Hands and lips and bodies all over each other… it was – well – _hot_. The longer they were together, the more heated it became. I was in half a mind to stop them (or suggest that they 'got a room') when providence intervened in the form of Sirius sneezing on the house of Exploding Snap cards he'd been building.

_None, I think, and it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my Lady Beatrice else. Here she comes._

By the time the smoke had cleared and I'd looked back, they were nowhere near one another… both a little red in the face and a little out of breath, but nowhere near… and everyone around them none the wiser.

_Clap's into 'Light o' love'. That goes without a burden. Do you sing it and I'll dance it._

They stayed on the opposite side of the Common Room for the rest of the night, as if they knew the danger of being too close… and the thing is, there wouldn't be any need to be wary, if it weren't for Sirius. That's the answer of course. He's Remus's best friend… and apparently Eleanor's too…

_O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels._

He takes every available opportunity to take her hand or kiss her cheek… I wouldn't think anything of it (this being Sirius), except I saw the way he was looking at her that afternoon in the Three Broomsticks…

_For a hawk, a horse or a husband?_

… he looked like she was his only lifeline, and he intended to cling to her for as long as he could…

_Well, and you be not turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star._

… and from the look on Eleanor's face, she knew. And she didn't want to be clung to. Or to hurt him.

_Nothing I; but God send everyone their heart's desire!_

That's the worst of it, somehow… if someone was the villain of the piece it would all be so clear cut… but it's _Eleanor_. I might not have known her for quite as long, but I know her well enough to know that the one thing she hates is people being hurt.

_A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching of cold._

Even if there _is_ that rumour that she was seen kissing Severus Snape on Valentine's Day. Not the most credible of rumours, that.

_Ever since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?_

And Remus is clearly madly in love with her – and it isn't like he's had the best of luck in the love department – and she blatantly feels the same way.

_Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus and lay it to your heart. It is the only thing for a qualm._

They could be so _happy_ together if only they'd let themselves… and Sirius would probably get over it… though to tell the truth I've never seen him like this before – dark and depressed one moment, his own maddening self the next…

_Moral? No, by my troth. I have no moral meaning. I meant plain holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love. Nay by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I list not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot think, if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love or that you can be in love._

But then… I wouldn't do it to Lily, and that's that. I must measure them by my own standard, particularly since I know them so well. Probably even Sirius would back down if he knew how Remus and Eleanor felt, but I'm guessing he's too wrapped up in himself to notice…

_Yet Benedick was such another, and now he is become a man. He swore that he never would marry; and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging. _

If only there was a way to fix things, to sit them all down and stop this painful charade of unfamiliarity… it's not doing any of them any good.

_And how you be converted I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do._

There they go again: Sirius muttering to himself in the corner (anyone else would think he was just reciting his lines, but I know that look), Remus and Eleanor working together in that slightly-more-than-friends way…

_Not a false gallop._

They think that no one sees, but _I_ do…

0o0o0o0

They're still not as they have been…

_I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll vouchsafe me._

The one darker and more brooding where he once was a jester, the other brighter and more brittle than the quiet, underestimated genius I know…

_I hope he be in love_.

Well Claudio might, but _I _don't. Two of my three best friends in love with the same girl, and me and Wormtail powerless to intervene… particularly since neither of them seems to want to talk about it. Which would probably be the best for all concerned, really. Including innocent bystanders. If this goes the way it looks like it's going to go, the potential ramifications for anyone nearby at time-of-Marauder-detonation are of cataclysmic proportions.

_You must hang it first and draw it afterwards._

And then there's Eleanor, stuck in between the two… I still can't work out who she prefers (though Pete reckons it's Remus for some reason), she's close to both of them. I mean, she might spend a lot of time with Moony studying, but she hangs out with Sirius just as much (it's never easy to study near Padfoot at the best of times). They're both great blokes, and both couples would work wonderfully – albeit in different ways… If I hadn't learned the hard way about her highly refined sense of justice I might label her a bit of a tart… but she's not like that. And frankly, if she were it wouldn't be a problem, because Moony wouldn't give her the time of day.

_Yet I say he is in love._

And he does, almost religiously. I've never seen him give a toss about what he looks like before going to the library, or a Quidditch game, or even just down to dinner if he knows she'll be there. I don't think he realises how obvious it is – though if I weren't his room-mate and best friend I might not have noticed, he is _quite_ subtle.

_If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs; 'a brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode?_

But it's the way he straightens his clothes and ruffles his hair before heading off to Ancient Runes. Where Eleanor is the only other student.

_No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls._

And Padfoot's just the same. Oh, naturally being a lady's man (well, ok, complete tart) he knows how to spruce himself up – and regularly does, to the detriment of the reputations of our womenfolk – but I've never seen him put the effort in for classes.

_That's as much to say, the sweet youth's in love._

Even Minnie's noticed, she keeps giving him that look we get when she knows we're up to something but can't figure out what it is; these days I just shrug and look helpless when her gaze turns to me. Nothing I can do about it. He's even dressed to kill this afternoon, for the rehearsal.

_And when was he wont to wash his face?_

Not that there's any use, really. Since they're playing counterparts in the play, Eleanor won't see much of anyone but Remus…

_Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lutestring, and now governed it by stops._

Which means that this evening will be spent sat with two depressed Marauders, which is making _me_ a little depressed because they're actually affecting my mood.

_Nay, but I know who loves him_.

And the worst of it is, as clueless as Padfoot is about the whole thing, Moony knows perfectly well that Pads wants her… which is why he's not making a move. I mean, he might be shy, but he _is_ a Marauder… and if his preferences are anything to go by, Eleanor Wren more than fits the bill.

_Yes, and his ill conditions; and in despite of all, dies for him_.

Which means that Moony's deliberately not asking Eleanor out, because he knows that Sirius wants to. Maybe if I hadn't been so damned arrogant about having 'dibs' on Lily, then this wouldn't be happening (and hadn't gone quite so nuts about that time in the library). One of them – well, Remus – would have made a move by now and there would be the end of it, one way or another, instead of all three of them being perpetually locked in this strange dance of misery.

'_Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet._

I think it's my fault…

0o0o0o0

It's no use. However much I try to stop myself, I _always_ glance in his direction, and he _always_ glances back, and I _always_ get this goofy smile on my face… it's a wonder no one's noticed. Particularly his best friends…

_How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heartburned an hour after._

Not even Sirius, and really you'd think he'd be the first to see our attraction (if only to make fun of it, or to stop it in it's tracks to reserve me for himself). But he hasn't… darkly muttering to himself in the corner – perhaps Don John wasn't the best part for him, after all; it may not be the primary reason he's down at the moment, but it can't be helping.

_He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick._

I _really_ hope I'm not blushing. That line wasn't nearly so embarrassing before Sirius got all suggestive about the three of us in Gladrags… Not that I'd _ever_ do that, Remus being the man of my dreams and all, but it isn't an unpleasant fantasy, as they go…

_The one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other is like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling._

I'm still a little surprised at times that the teachers cast Remus as Benedick instead of Sirius (not that I'm complaining)… in many ways Sirius is much more like a real life Benedick, with the womanising and the incessant jesting. But I reckon they knew what they were doing… it's really bringing Remus out of his shell… and he's glorious. I knew he would be. I've _never_ had so much fun being stared at by people in my life!

_With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman in the world, if'a could get her good will_.

But they can't have him. I want him for myself… which is dangerous, because if Sirius really does love me then I don't think Remus will let himself be happy… he'd rather die than hurt his friend, and so would I. Though I admit there are times when I am prepared to be a good deal more selfish.

_Too curst is more than curst. I shall lessen God's sending that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns'; but to a cow too curst he sends none._

But I am a Gryffindor. And therefore (largely) noble, and I know it would hurt everyone much more in the long run if I was… sometimes I think I'm too smart for my own damned good.

_Just, if he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a man with a beard on his face. I had rather lie in the woollen!_

Why does everything have to be so bloody complicated? I mean, even my mother couldn't figure out the whole 'love' thing… and she's practically a genius when it comes to social dynamics… renowned for it, in fact

_What should I do with him? Dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting gentlewoman? He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell._

Perhaps it would be better if I just swore off men entirely, got some peace and quiet…

_No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.' So deliver I up my apes, and away to St Peter. For the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long._

But it would be no use. I'd make my mind up to do it, be determined as hell and all it would take from Remus is of those smiles that go more up one side of his face than the other, or that devilish grin he's so good at hiding, or the graze of his fingers against my hand – or, hell, even just the sound of his _voice_ – and I'd be lost. Zebra-ed. Fucked. Literally, in fact.

_Yes, faith. It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say, 'Father as it please you.' But for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy, and say, 'Father as it please me'._

For all that I admire Beatrice, and I always have, I couldn't scorn someone as wonderful as Remus (but in the end she does relent, I suppose)…

_Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred._

… with his kind grey eyes, and the way his hair is just the right amount of messy, and that deep throaty chuckle he does when he's trying to hide how funny he finds something… or his kindness and thoughtfulness, often to his own detriment, the easy way he smiles, the complete loyalty he shows to his friends, his quick wit…

_The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time. If the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in every thing and so dance out the answer._

… or the way he can set me alight with only a glance or a touch…

_For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinquepace. The first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig (and full as fantastical); the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave._

… and _such_ fire. The slow smouldering kind, with the softest of touches; the intense, smothering flames, when he nips at my neck; the fresh, bright, delicious kind when his lips are on mine; the sweet abandon of wildfire when his hands are on my body; the raging inferno he becomes if I'm threatened. There's a part of me that suspects that all this burning can't be good for us...

_I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight._

But really, if it comes to it, I'm scared I won't be able to give him up…

0o0o0o0

This is all wrong.

_Hear me a little; for I have only been silent so long, and given way unto this course of fortune, by noting of the lady._

Best friend against best friend. It's not supposed to work like this. They should be giving each other unwanted advice, egging each other on, not refusing to speak… I know Sirius hasn't a clue about how Remus feels, so there's no reason for him to talk about anything, but he used to. Time was any pretty girl walking past would be the subject of his conversation for at least the next few days (or however long it took to get her into bed), and Eleanor should be no exception. Except that he's gone through a lot already this year. Not talking about a girl is much more like Remus… he's always been more private about that stuff.

_I have marked a thousand blushing apparitions to start in her face,_

And then there's Eleanor. Gods know whether or not she's spoken to Lily and Alice about it… I know she hasn't spoken to Claire, I asked (I made up some rumour that she fancied someone in Ravenclaw) but she hadn't a clue…

… _a thousand innocent shames in angel whiteness beat away those blushes,_

To be frank, I'm not even wholly certain that she knows either of them fancy her… most of the time she seems blissfully unaware of even the possibility of male attentions. Valentine's Day must have been one hell of a jolt for her in that respect…

… _and in her eye there hath appeared a fire to burn the errors that these princes hold against her maiden truth._

… in fact, you could probably have cooked eggs on her face, she was that red at breakfast. Honestly, the thought of anyone caught between two Marauders is fairly frightening (how can we forget the day James caught Lily kissing Remus in the Library?), but this is _Eleanor_…

_Call me a fool;_

… and one of these days she's going to make her mind up about the whole 'love' thing and ask someone out. I really can't imagine her waiting for someone else to do it…

_Trust not my reading nor my observations, which with experimental seal doth warrant the tenor of my book;_

… and I'm reasonably certain it'll be Remus. James still isn't sure, but I saw them in the early hours of the morning after Valentine's Day: curled up together on the sofa in front of the Common Room fire. All I got from Remus when he woke up to find me watching was a pained expression and a 'Not tonight Pete,' while Eleanor sleepily conjured me a big squishy duvet so I could get some kip in one of the armchairs. Admittedly, neither of them could return to the dormitories (bloody Padfoot and his bloody noisy appetite), but they looked so _right_ together.

_Trust not my age, my reverence, calling, nor divinity,_

And while ordinarily I'd expect Remus to back down at the first sign of conflict, I don't think he's going to this time… and when it kicks off (you can almost feel it coming) it'll be a bloody miracle if he and Sirius don't tear one another apart.

… _if this sweet lady lie not guiltless here under some biting error._

If they don't stop this soon, someone's going to get badly hurt…

0o0o0o0

And I thought life was complicated before.

_If you go on thus, you will kill yourself, and 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief against yourself._

I've spent so much of my life watching my own back it seems very strange indeed to be watching someone else's…

_Therein do men from children nothing differ._

… particularly the backs of a couple of Gryffindors – let alone one quarter of the golden boys who used to regularly make my life hell. But here I am, watching. The tide of insults and attacks is waning now from all those quarters (unless I invite it myself) and I find myself looking to greener (hah!) pastures to defend myself.

_Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself. Make those that do offend you suffer too._

Mulciber's smiling at me again. Wonder what I did this time. Probably just me breathing… though it might have something to do with volunteering to stay late tonight to work through my scenes with Frank; even bloody Potter's staying on, and I _still_ volunteered. I must be losing my mind.

_Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily._

Except… since he and Lily started seeing one another he's been making an effort not to fight me (a sensible precaution, it has to be said)… he's even gone out of his way to compliment me during rehearsal (though he always looks astonished, so maybe he doesn't intend it at all and actually _means_ it…), which is, well, _weird_, to be completely honest. And strangely, his being with Lily doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would… he seems to be treating her well, and she seems to be happy, and (as much as it pains me to admit it) that seems to be enough for me.

_If he could right himself with quarrelling, some of us would lie low._

And of course there was never any question that I'd continue to look out for Lily, who still manages to put herself in the hexing line with half of the Slytherins… and naturally, since she and Alice and Frank are such good friends I watch for them too. They have shown me kindness, despite the fact they don't actually like me. Eleanor was a bit of a shock though. I never dreamed that chatting to a Gryffindor about Chinese Chomping Cabbage would result in a friendship… one so strong that I am prepared to get in Mulciber's way for her. After all, I didn't seek her out, she found me in the darkness and held out her hand…

_He shall kill two of us, and men indeed. But that's no matter; let him kill one first. Win me and wear me! Let him answer me. Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy; come, follow me. Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence! Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will!_

… even when I bit her she wouldn't pull away. So I won't either. I don't know what's going on with the Gryffindors, but clearly something is… and it has to be fairly major, since they've stopped paying attention…

_Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece; and she is dead, slandered to death by villains, that dare as well as answer a man indeed as I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!_

… which is never a good thing when there are Slytherins around – I'd know, I _am_ one. Particularly Slytherins like Mulciber and Rosier…

_Hold your content. What, man! I know them, yea, and what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple; scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys, that lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, go anticly, and show outward hideousness, and speak off half a dozen dang'rous words, how they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; and this is all._

… and I get the distinct impression they've set their sights on Eleanor. Which is not in any way a good thing. They set their sights on Mary MacDonald, and just look what happened to _her_… not many of us liked that…

_Come, 'tis no matter. Do not you meddle; let me deal in this._

One thing is clear: if they're going after Eleanor, I'm going to have to take them down…

_And shall, or some of us will smart for it_

I suppose that's the cost of friendship…

0o0o0o0

He's putting me off again. I'm not even facing him and I can feel him glancing at me, and when I turn and smile he _still_ blushes a little.

_But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?_

It's almost the same as it was before he asked me out – I never could concentrate in choir with him so near me. He's got such a beautiful voice. I know the others tease him about it sometimes, but they're just as impressed when they hear him, and so proud of him. I'm proud of him too. My Peter.

_And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?_

Most girls wouldn't even look twice at him – particularly if he's with the other Marauders (I'm not blind, I do see how handsome they are) – he's not what you might call an Adonis, but that's part of what I like about him. His features are warmer, friendlier, kinder somehow; more mellow. He has his own magnificence.

_Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman deserve as full as fortunate a bed as ever Beatrice shall couch upon?_

It's funny, but Peter told me that if it weren't for Eleanor's urging he wouldn't have asked me out. He didn't think he was good enough. What a stupid thing to think! It's probably because he's a boy, and his friends are boys, and boys aren't the most sensible people to talk to about matters of the heart…

_Sure I think so; and therefore certainly it were not good she knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it._

To think, if it weren't for Eleanor we might never have been together! I'd never have had the courage to ask him out…

_Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable._

… and apparently we've both had crushes on one another since third year. How silly we are!

_Yet tell her of it. Hear what she will say._

It's in the way he smiles at me, as if he's not sure he should trust his senses – not sure I'll smile back. Of course I'll smile back. It's all I ever want to do around him. I intend to make sure he knows that…

_O, do not do your cousin such a wrong! She cannot be so much without true judgement (having so excellent a wit as she is prized to have) as to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick._

After my mother left I was certain I'd never feel for anyone what I feel for Peter… when I'm with him it feels like nothing can harm me, like I'm finally _home._ Oh Merlin, and when he kisses me!

_I pray you not be angry with me, madam, speaking my fancy. Signior Benedick, for shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, goes foremost in report through Italy._

It's like I'm falling, falling into him… it's dizzying and wonderful and terrifying all at the same time… this must be what they mean when they talk about 'love'. I am in love… I love him. I _love_ him. Gosh.

_His excellence did earn it ere he had it. When are you married, madam?_

But then, he's always been perfect to me…

0o0o0o0

She's perfect. In every way. Even in that she has flaws… they're not major ones, but they're there (and I know that this makes absolutely no sense, even in my head, but I don't care). Nobody should be too perfect, and she's just right.

_Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?_

And I love her. It sounds ridiculous, I've only known her a handful of months, and I'm only seventeen, but I do. I love her. I felt a taste of it the moment she hugged me when I told her I trusted her – I had no idea it was love, not really. Not then.

_I will not desire that._

I knew it, properly knew it, in a way that seems impossible until you do know it, when we agreed to stay apart. In a strange way that agreement wasn't the separation it seemed (though we are trying hard to keep it that way, really we are); it was something that we were a part of together… an accord.

_Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged._

And the wolf loves her too, in his own way… which is a frightening thing to think about, since wolves mate for life. After Eleanor, there will be no one else for him. Or for me.

_Is there any way to show such friendship?_

If I could, I would pull her aside at the end of rehearsal and we'd be off, out of the Castle (she's already proved she's more than willing to break the rules, after all), just for one night. Sneak into Hogsmeade and then Apparate somewhere…

_May a man do it?_

…somewhere private and beautiful, far away from meddling housemates and lovesick best friends and all this bloody homework. Somewhere we could just be us, even for an hour or two…

_I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is that not strange?_

She smiles up at me, through the fake tears she's put on for the play (the teachers think she's a wonderful actress, me I think she's just plain wonderful) and my heart skips a beat. I never thought I could fall for anyone as completely as I have for her, body and soul…

_By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me._

…as she apparently has for me. It's completely irrational, but I don't care.

_I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you._

She even accepts the wolf – loves him, even, as a part of me, and told him so, when he was snarling at her. Without even flinching.

_With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest I love thee._

Just reached up and wrapped her arms around the two of us, as if it wasn't strange in the slightest, as if her lover hadn't suddenly gone mental and started shouting and become an entirely different being – an entirely different _species_…

_What offence, sweet Beatrice?_

… and she just stood there, and let it happen. She wasn't even afraid we'd hurt her, either of us…

_And do it with all thy heart._

We're supposed to kiss here, but the teachers are letting us skip that part so we don't get all embarrassed. I'd think it was considerate if they weren't forcing us to do this in the first place. Her lips are so soft and inviting (particularly when she bites one of them, as she's doing now)… the problem won't be kissing her, it will be _stopping_ kissing her.

_Come, bid me do anything for thee._

I have no idea how the wolf and I managed to attract such a kind, caring, wonderful, lovely, beautiful, _sexy_ woman, but somehow we managed it. And there she is, not a half-step away from me, ashy-gold fronds of hair playing against the skin of her neck, delicious curves sending glorious shivers through my limbs and fingers, looking up at me with those beautiful storm-cloud eyes…

_Ha! Not for the wide world!_

And Sirius wants her for his own.

_Tarry, sweet Beatrice._

(Oh Hecate, I'm holding her now and I can smell her warm, sweet scent – feel her heart beating against my chest – feel her warm body pressed into mine – and it feels like home!)

_Beatrice-_

(All I'd have to do is lift her chin so our lips could meet and I could taste her, and I wouldn't care _who_ could see! Reputations be damned – friendships can go to hell – if I could just taste her once more!)

_We'll be friends first._

And yet, for all that…

_Is Claudio thine enemy?_

Sirius wants her for his own.

_Hear me, Beatrice –_

And I am his best friend – his brother even. I would die for him, give my soul for him… time was I'd have let him have any girl he wanted, because he was my friend, and that was enough…

_Nay, but Beatrice –_

… and yet…

_Beat–_

… and yet, for all that, I don't know that I could stand by and watch him take _her_. Even though that's what I've sworn to do, if he ever makes his affections plain…

_Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee._

I suspect Eleanor knows it… she's certainly aware of what I could do, in the worst of situations… if I lost control, I could…

_Think you in your soul that Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?_

… I could actually kill him. And it would kill me. And her. And the wolf. He _is_ Pack, after all. That sort of thing really matters to a wolf. And to me… and to _her_.

_Enough, I am engaged. I will challenge him._

She wouldn't go to him if he asked… she'd let him down gently, and be as kind as she could, but she wouldn't be with him. She doesn't want that, I've asked her.

_I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you._

She wants _me_. Beyond all reason, and beyond anyone's control.

_By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account._

So if Padfoot ever makes a move (and, by Hecate, I thought he would have by now), all three of us will be alone, and miserable, and lost.

_As you hear of me, so think of me_.

Really, we should just give up this ridiculous pretence that we can ever be together…

_Go comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so farewell._

The trouble is, I'm falling more in love with her every day, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.


	16. Tenth Aside, That Way Madness Lies

The days were growing hotter and the exam period looming by the time the teachers deemed their cast ready to start putting their scenes together into acts. In some ways, this was an improvement as it required fewer rehearsals per week, but it did mean that each rehearsal went on into the small hours of the night. Consequently there were a lot of exhausted sixth years around, and tempers, such as they were, were fraying.

"No, Prongs, I _don't_ see the problem with it! It's never affected my game before!"

"All I'm saying is that staying up all night with some bint the night before the Quidditch final isn't a good idea, alright?"

Remus and Peter were sat side by side at the Gryffindor table, both trying to look like the argument unfolding in front of them wasn't, in fact, happening; Peter was idly pushing a few rashers of bacon around his plate while Remus rested his chin in his hands. They'd all been up late the night before, running the wedding scene, but apparently Sirius had stayed out a little later. In fact, Remus was willing to bet that he hadn't gone to bed at all.

"_Trixie isn't some bint_!" Sirius growled, emphasising every word, just centimetres from his best friend's face.

"She is if she spent all of last night with _you_," spat James. "I thought you'd stopped all this ridiculous skirt chasing, but _no_, you start again, just in time for the big match! If we lose today because one of our Beaters is too shagged out to function –"

"Just because you're dating Little Miss Perfect, who's so damned tight she won't let you into her _coat_, let alone her bed –"

But Sirius had gone too far. Before there was time for Remus and Peter to do anything other than stare in unabashed horror at their friend, James had thrown himself across the table and was punching any part of Sirius he could find. Peter jumped back, pulling a terrified first year out of the way by the scruff of her shirt as the furious tangle of obscenities and flailing limbs rolled towards her.

Remus huffed angrily as he and Peter rolled up their sleeves and waded into the fray, trying to extricate one or the other of their best friends. Unfortunately James and Sirius were currently too intent on beating one another to death that they didn't notice the entrance of their would-be separators and hit, bit and kicked anything remotely boy shaped that came into their field of vision.

Consequently, by the time the girls arrived to see what the hell was going on, the four of them were looking distinctly worse for wear. Given that neither Peter nor Remus were wearing Quidditch robes, their clothes were torn in several places, and all four boys were bruised and bleeding.

Eleanor took one look at them and aimed a quick Body Bind at Sirius; at almost the same moment, Lily treated James to the same hex.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" demanded Professor Sprout, moving students out of her way to reach the epicentre of whatever was kicking off this time.

"What – why is it _always_ you four?" she asked, a pronounced frown on her face. "Miss Evans, Miss Wren, I'd have thought you'd know better than to fight in the Great Hall! I don't suppose any of you feel like explaining? No? Right, on to the Hospital Wing to get cleaned up, then we can set your detentions… after the Quidditch match."

Gryffindor were playing Slytherin today and it was no secret that the Professors ran a book on the matches; in all likelihood, Professor Sprout had a sufficient amount of Galleons riding on the Gryffindor team that she didn't want to handicap the team any further than they already had themselves.

"Actually Professor…" said a small voice; Alice and Frank moved out of the way to reveal a tiny Gryffindor girl with erratic pigtails. Eleanor recognised her immediately and the owner of Lottie the unfortunate Pygmy Puff.

"Yes, Olivia, isn't it?" Professor Sprout asked kindly, the girl seemed almost more afraid that she'd spoken up than anything else.

"Yes Professor. It's just, the girls and those two didn't do anything wrong," she said, pointing out Peter and Remus. "In fact, if _he_ hadn't pulled me out of the way I'd have been badly hurt," she nodded at Peter, who stared at her in astonishment.

"Is that so?" asked Professor Sprout, thoughtfully. "Did you see how this started?"

"Yes, he," she said, indicating James, "was telling _him_," she said, pointing at Sirius, "off for staying up late before the match, and _he_ said something very rude about his girlfriend, and that one just lost it. He jumped across the _whole table_," she said, in a manner that suggested that she thought this was very cool indeed. "Then those two waded in to try to stop the fight, but they just ended up getting hit a lot, as far as I can tell."

"There wasn't much to get a hold of," mumbled Remus, who couldn't believe his luck.

"Then Lily and Eleanor arrived," smiled Olivia, and Eleanor was suddenly quite embarrassed that she hadn't even known the girl's name. "And they petrified the two that were fighting, and then you came over, Professor."

"Did they indeed? Quick thinking, girls…" said Professor Sprout, apparently considering their fate. "Alright, Potter, Black, you've just lost Gryffindor twenty points each –" there was a general groan from the assembled Gryffindors – "get to the Hospital Wing and sort yourselves out. Mr Smith," she added, to a burly seventh year Prefect. "You escort them and try to keep them out of trouble. I'll discuss your detentions with Minerva, you can expect to hear from one of us later tonight. Please try to refrain from injuring one another further – however honourable your intentions might be. Off you go," she dismissed them with a wave of her hand and turned to the others. "Well, thanks to Miss Haversham here, I'm awarding each of you five points for chivalry and quick thinking. Girls, if you could escort these gentlemen to the Hospital Wing – preferably after Potter and Black have left, I'd very much appreciate it."

They made a rather ragged group as they set off towards the Hospital Wing, pausing only to thank Olivia profusely. The tiny girl went an impressive shade of pink before scurrying off to rejoin her friends. People were already beginning to make their way down to the pitch, and most of the corridors were deserted.

"What did Black say about me?" Lily demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Er," said Peter, looking at Remus uncertainly.

"I don't want to tell you," said Remus, wretchedly.

"Why?"

"Because you'll kill him, and I'd miss my loyal if idiotic and totally inappropriate best friend?"

Lily rounded on him, wand raised.

"Remus," she said, sweetly. "You know I love you to bits, but if you don't tell me exactly what Black said to James to make him actually try to dismember the sworn brother he's had since first year, I _will_ turn you into a girl."

He swallowed, and looked at Peter and Eleanor helplessly; they shrugged. He told her, and then closed his eyes in case this meant that he too was about to perish. Lily was silent, he opened one eye, just to check. She was white and shaking with fury; Eleanor had stepped between her and Remus, and was in the process of trying to decide how best to comfort her friend. She reached out an arm.

"Lily?"

"Hmm?"

"I realise you're angry…"

"Damn' right I'm angry!"

"To be honest, I'm pretty angry too… but now is not the best time to deal with this."

"I think now is the _perfect_ time," hissed Lily, and red sparks flew out of her wand, burning Eleanor's arm and singeing her shirt. She yelped and jumped back, right into Remus, who also yelped, not having expected to be effectively run into.

"Oh Merlin, Ellie, I'm sorry!" cried Lily, abruptly pale and mortified.

"Er, Lily?" said Peter, very gently removing her wand. "I think I should look after this – just for a bit."

"I'm fine," said Eleanor, gritting her teeth as Remus tried to fuss over her. "No harm done. But that's exactly my point – we'll get Sirius back for what he said, but when everyone's a bit calmer and we have chance to plan," she waited for Lily's nod before continuing. "And as much as I will enjoy helping you provide Sirius with his just desserts, it has to be said that whatever else he is, he's never normally that cruel."

Peter nodded.

"Also, not actually suicidal. He must have been fairly worked up to start with," he said, fairly, and then frowned. "Which is unusual given that the whole fight started because he was out all night with a girl, which is the one sure way of mellowing him out…"

Lily, whose earlier anger had once again flared at her friends' defence of her now mortal enemy, frowned.

"Who was he with?"

"Er – Trixie I think," said Remus. "Why?"

"Trixie's had to go home – family emergency… so it can't have been her."

"_That's_ unusual," said Peter. "Since this strange and frightening 'new' Sirius started happening he's not seen anyone else – almost as if rampant bonking with the same 'bit of muslin' isn't as bad as dragging every girl he meets off to the nearest broom cupboard."

"Well you have to admit it _is_ an improvement…" said Eleanor. "Wait – 'rampant bonking'?" she asked, incredulous, and Peter shrugged.

"Maybe he wasn't seeing anyone…" said Lily, slowly. "Maybe he was up to something entirely different, and doesn't want anyone to know about it – insulting me is a sure way of setting James off and stopping him asking questions…"

Remus smiled, despite himself.

"You actually seem quite flattered," he chuckled.

"Shut up."

"Lily could be right," said Peter. "But that begs the question of what the hell he's up to that he doesn't want James to know about… He tends to tell Prongs _everything_."

Remus nodded.

"Actually," said Eleanor, unhappily. "He told me that he'd fallen in love with someone…" she blushed under Peter and Lily's scrutiny. "He made me promise not to tell anyone…"

"Who?" asked Peter, suddenly curious; if he'd talked it through with Eleanor then maybe they'd been wrong about his feelings towards her. _Who talks something like _that_ through with the person they're in love with?_ he thought.

"He wouldn't say…" said Eleanor. "But he did say she was in our year."

"So, not Trixie…" said Peter. _Or not. Apparently _Padfoot _talks something like that through with the person he's in love with, then refuses to tell her who it is…_

"You thought he'd fallen for Trixie? They've been fooling around for _years_," said Remus.

"Yeah, but after his outburst at breakfast… I think it was Prongs calling Trixie a 'bint' that set him off."

"Which is less unusual," allowed Lily, grudgingly. "Whatever else he says or does if he sees a girl being specifically insulted he's immediately on her side."

"He says he appreciates all women equally," said Remus; Lily huffed.

"Apparently except for me…"

"You _do_ hex him quite frequently," said Peter.

"Only because I won't take his crap and he doesn't like it. He brings it on himself…"

"Anyway, I reckon you're right, he was _trying _to set Prongs off," Peter glanced at his watch. "Looks like we'll miss the match – you know what Madame Pomfrey's like…"

"Oh!" said Eleanor, and smacked a hand to her forehead. "I've still got some of that dittany in my bedside cabinet – that'll heal us up quicker than going to the Hospital Wing."

"Good plan," said Lily. "I'll come with you… I can probably fix your clothes..."

0o0o0o0

Eleanor had healed up Peter first, and since he and Lily actually cared about the outcome of the match (well, outside the general wish for one's house to do well, at least) they rushed off, leaving Eleanor and Remus to patch one another up.

"Ouch," said Eleanor, as Remus dripped a trail of dittany along the wand burns on her arm.

"Sorry," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Not your fault. No one's, really."

He smiled down at her, which turned out to be a bad idea, since this moved several cuts and bruises on his face in a variety of painful directions; he winced.

"Why am I friends with them again?" he asked, fingering a particularly sore bruise on his shoulder.

"Because generally speaking they're nice, relatively stable, don't care about you being a big bad loup-garou and would die for you."

"Oh, yeah, that…" he frowned and took off his ripped and bloodied shirt. "Peter's right, you know. Something else is going on with Padfoot…"

Eleanor nodded, trying (and failing) not to be instantly fascinated by his scarred chest and stomach.

"This is going to sting, by the way," she said, starting to heal up some of his cuts and bruises. "I'll talk to him. Circe knows why, but he seems to be able to open up to me a bit more."

"You _know_ why."

"Possibly. Anyway, if I can figure out what's up with him _this_ time I'll let you know – assuming he and James haven't kissed and made up already."

"Ow!"

"Sorry – what was that massive twitch for?"

"The image of my two best friends kissing and making up," he said, pulling a face. "I'm going to change now, so…"

"I'll turn around," said Eleanor, and there was quiet for a minute as she listened to the sounds of Remus undressing and redressing. "Remus?"

"What?" he asked, a little muffled.

"What if what's going on with him is that he's figured out that you like me too?"

There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Bugger. Or that you like me…"

"That's what I was wondering…"

Remus sighed.

"Then we'll have to cross those bridges when we come to them…" he enveloped her in a hug from behind. "But, just in case this is our last day of relative freedom…"

She turned to face him, and smiled sadly.

"I just wanted to say, even though we haven't properly been together… I…"

"Me too," she said, quietly.

Remus bit his lip, and then winced again.

"Ouch. Forgot about that one…"

"Here," Eleanor dabbed a little dittany on her finger and brushed it across his broken lip; it was a curious sensation – it didn't sting as much as prickle.

"Ellie, love?" he said, wrapping his arms around her, tightly.

"Yes?"

"I don't want to let you go."

0o0o0o0

It was a little over a week before James managed to stop being angry for long enough to think about Sirius's unusual behaviour. They'd won the final hands down, but neither of them had spoken since that morning; he'd considered talking to him (well, hitting him again) at the after-match party, but Sirius had disappeared off somewhere in a rare show of wisdom and James had been thoroughly distracted by the way Lily was fussing over his bruises. Apparently, she rather liked chivalry, despite what she'd previously said on the topic – and particularly when it was directed towards her. They'd spent much of the evening in a tight and fiery embrace in a secluded corner of the Common Room and after probably the first minute James had entirely ceased to think about anything except the way her lips and tongue felt as they clashed with his.

He was getting a little dazed now, just thinking about it.

But when he'd finally worked through a sufficient amount of his ire about what Sirius had said, he started wondering about _why_.

It wasn't like Padfoot to be that much of a dick, at least not to his friends; and no matter how much he grumbled, he'd never been _that_ kind of rude about Lily. He liked her, despite their obvious differences in opinion that left them frequently at odds with one another, and he liked winding her up. He'd never been downright cruel before.

James sighed.

He was sat in an interminable Divination lesson, and while he and Sirius would usually be spending this valuable time working out their next prank, his best friend was sat as far away from him as he could feasibly be, given that they were sat at the same table.

Professor Nottage was wittering on about something Jupiter related, and wouldn't be easily distracted. He pulled a scrap of parchment towards him and scribbled.

'You alright, mate?'

He nudged the parchment closer to Sirius, who tried to ignore it for a few minutes, before giving in.

'No.'

'What's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Oh. Ok.'

There was a pause, as Professor Nottage excitedly informed Dora Copes, his star pupil, that her aura was a-trembling.

'Look, I'm sorry for what I said about Evans. I was out of line.'

'Thanks. I shouldn't have called Trixie a bint. She's great. Sorry.'

'No worries.'

'Mates again?'

'Forever, mate.'

James waited until Copes had finished writhing about in her seat, trying to pretend she was having some kind of vision; it was really quite distracting.

'Look, something's bothering you. You've been down for ages, and then you just snapped… What's going on Padfoot? I'm worried about you.'

'Ponce.'

'Like you aren't.'

There was a few moments intense scribbling, and this time, when the scrap of parchment came back Sirius's normally elegant handwriting was messy and hurried.

'Lots of stuff. Got a letter from my Mum last week. Wasn't pretty. Told me I was a total disgrace, and that Regulus was more than making up for my dead weight. He's a Death Eater Prongs. He's fifteen, for fuck's sake.'

James's mouth fell open in shock; he looked up at his friend's face in obvious astonishment.

'Fuck, mate…'

'Yeah.'

'What does Voldemort want with kids, anyway?'

'Spying on Dumbledore? Vengeance on my parents for letting one of their kids stray to the wrong side? Who the fuck knows. I tried to talk to him, Friday night. He was so _smug_ about it all. All I cared about when I was fifteen was Quidditch, pranking and sex – and there he is, spouting about blood-purity and the stamping out of 'inferior factions'. I was so angry I couldn't sleep. I was in the Astronomy Tower…'

The class was collecting their things now, most of them happy to be retreating from the fug of Nottage's classroom.

"I'm sorry mate," said James, quietly. "I should've asked instead of just going mental."

"Yeah, well. I should have told you, instead of insulting Evans," he let the shadow of a wry smile cross his handsome features. "How much does she want to kill me, by the way? Should I grovel, or would it be simpler just to make a draft of my Will?"

"Probably the latter, but I'd try grovelling too. You never know."

"Yeah…"

They waited while a horde of excited first years rushed past.

"Ah, first year, possibly the last time I was ever _that_ excited to go to class," said James, reminiscing. "At least, to a class that wasn't about to explode." He grinned.

"Or a class with Evans in," said Sirius, testing the water.

James gave him a companionable shove that told his friend that everything was back to normal as far as Prongs was concerned, and he relaxed a little.

As they crossed the Entrance Hall and headed for the Dungeons, James became aware that his friend was watching him.

"What?" he asked, eyeing him warily. Sirius looked pensive, which was always a bad thing.

"You and Evans," he said, slowly. "How did you know? I mean, that…"

"That she's the woman of my dreams?"

"Yeah…" Sirius shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know mate, I just _knew_. I guess I sort of fancied her first, and then… it was a bit like the world shifting into focus, if you know what I mean."

"Makes sense…"

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, er, no reason," said Sirius hurriedly, clearly under the mistaken impression that this was something James would let go of.

"You're in love, aren't you," stated James, as if he really needed confirmation.

"I – uh – well – " sputtered Sirius.

"That's a yes then. Sure sign of romantic feelings, incoherence."

"No, I – really –"

James gave him a Look.

"Oh, fuck off," said Sirius, churlishly. "It's not like it matters, anyway. She'd never go for me."

"Well _that's_ not like you."

"Look at me," said Sirius, suddenly, turning to his friend. "I'm an arrogant, skirt-chasing prick who can't even keep the best friends he's had for the past five years! Peter's walking 'round on eggshells near me most of the time, Remus has been being weird with me for _months_ and I started a ridiculous fight with you, just because I was angry!"

"Padf-" began James, alarmed.

"My own family want nothing to do with me and teachers consider me sufficiently unpleasant to cast me as the villain of the piece. I can't even protect my little brother from that fucking _devil_ outside the school! Who's going to settle for that for anything longer than a one night thing? And then there's my reputation! I know I've always chased girls – and I'm not saying I haven't enjoyed every sordid second of it – who'd trust someone like me to have a 'normal' relationship with them?"

He was quite red in the face, and running his hands through his hair in great distress.

"Padfoot – are you finished? Good. Most of that is complete bollocks and you know it. You're a good bloke – handsome, too, if you like that sort of thing – you're a good laugh, you're smart, loyal and from what the majority of the female population of the school attest, you're good in bed." James grimaced, "Not that I _ever_ needed to know that."

"Well, there is that," he conceded, grudgingly. "But – and I can't believe the words are coming out of my mouth – I think there might be more to proper relationships than that…"

James nodded in a 'well-it's-Padfoot' kind of way.

"So, who is she?"

"I'm not saying."

"Oh come on, after all the grief you've given Moony and Worms over the girls they've fancied…"

"Nope, not saying. But she's in our year, and she's bloody wonderful…"

James decided that he might as well have a guess, since it wasn't that much of a stab in the dark.

"Not _Eleanor_?" he said, in a tone calculated to portray incredulity.

"No," said Sirius shortly and, as far as James was concerned, utterly unconvincingly. "Someone else…"

0o0o0o0

"But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so completely?" asked Claire, head to one side in carefully constructed concern.

"So says the Prince, and my new-trothèd lord," replied Lily, candidly.

They were running through lines in an empty classroom on the fourth floor, having decided that homework could, for the moment, put on hold for some comedy.

"When are you married, madam?" asked Claire, fondly.

"Why, everyday tomorrow!" cried Lily, and then frowned. "You know, I still don't get that bit. I mean, she can't be getting married every day, but she _is_ getting married 'tomorrow' in the play. Is she just excited, or something?"

"I think it's something like after tomorrow she'll be married forever," said Claire, thoughtfully.

"Oh. Well that makes sense," Lily smiled. "I feel like a bit of a tit now," she said, and they both laughed. Abruptly, Claire froze.

"_What,_" mouthed Lily, but the other girl shook her head and pulled her friend to the window in the door of the classroom. The Castle was caught in that strange summer twilight where it was still just light enough to see but nobody could bear to light the torches.

Lily squinted, what in Hecate's name was Claire seeing that she wasn't? She was about to turn to ask her when a movement caught her eye. There, in the shadows of the corridor's statuary, someone was moving. Two someones. Two someones, moving together…

In the corridor, one of the someones moaned. It sounded like a distinctly _male_ someone.

"Right, well, I'll put a stop to _that_," whispered Lily, but Claire tightened her grip on her sleeve and shook her head urgently. "What? I'm a Prefect, it's my job –"

"Wait!" hissed Claire, taking out her own wand.

"What-?"

She opened the door a crack and aimed a charm expertly at the suit of armour at the far end of the corridor, which shuddered for a few moments.

The sound of muffled giggling floated over from the someones.

"Claire, wh-"

"Wait for it," said Claire. "This is how we sneak past our Prefects and back into the Common Room- it's called a 'rattler'."

"Well I hate to say it but Felicity Mayfair was always a bit dim," murmured Lily. Claire nodded; Felicity was one of the least intelligent people she'd ever come across, which was impressive, considering how much time she'd spent in the presence of Mulciber and Crabbe this year.

The male someone moaned again, more urgently this time.

At the other end of the corridor the suit of armour was beginning to shudder more violently.

"I have to say, that's a pretty cool charm," whispered Lily, and her friend grinned.

Just then, whatever was happening to the suit of armour came to something of a head, and it fell to the floor with a cacophony of falling metal.

The couple in the corner jumped apart, startled, and ran for it – in completely opposite directions. Just for a moment, the face of one of the fugitives was illuminated by a twilit window.

Lily gaped at Claire, who was looking back at her with a worried and shocked expression.

"Did you see who she was with?" asked Lily, stunned.

"No… but I'd be prepared to swear on _her_ identity."

Lily nodded, wide eyed.

_Well I never_, she thought.

Who the fleeing young man had been, neither of the girls could guess; but neither had any doubt at all, that the girl who'd been inspiring that lustful groaning, and that had sprinted past the door of their classroom, had been none other than Eleanor Wren.

0o0o0o0

Remus panted heavily as he hid behind a tapestry on the third floor. He and Eleanor had had a few close shaves since deciding that if they would soon never be able to be together they could at least get in a significant amount of illicit snogging in the meantime, but that one was too close. Whoever had knocked over the suit of armour had to be in the same corridor, and had probably seen their faces.

Even worse: if they were in their year and got back to the rehearsal before they did (no one had been missing when the two of them had snuck out) they'd know _exactly_ who they were. And gossip in Hogwarts travelled faster than tuberculosis through a cloister…

He'd have to chance it and pretend that he'd popped out to the bathroom; absently he straightened his disarrayed uniform and tried to un-muss his hair.

He hoped Eleanor had got back alright.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor glanced up as he sidled back in, and tried not to blush. She was helping take costume measurements: the idea being, if they put in the order now there would be plenty of time for Professors Sprout and Flitwick to sort out any hiccups over the summer.

Alice rolled her eyes. Those two were really a lost cause.

Not a minute later, Lily and Claire hurried in and, quickly surveying the room, rushed over.

"What?" asked Alice, in amusement. Lily wasn't much for gossip, so this was likely to be good.

"You're never going to guess who we just saw snogging in the corridor!" whispered Claire, excited and a little worried.

"Ooh! Who?" hissed Alice, who could never let go of the opportunity to glean information, genuinely interested. She'd been right, this _was_ good.

"Eleanor!" whispered Lily.

"_What?_" Alice nearly squealed; Lily shushed her hurriedly. The three of them looked around to check no one had heard her outburst.

"_But she was only gone five minutes…_"

"Who else was gone?" Claire demanded.

"You didn't see who she was with? asked Alice, incredulous.

"No," said Lily.

"Well," began Alice, though she had a fair idea of who her friend's paramour might be. "Sirius was gone for a while, and Nathan… Algernon came back a few minutes ago – almost at the same time as Eleanor, actually – and Remus only just walked in," she paused. "Oh, and Severus snuck back in about five minutes ago."

Lily gave a low whistle.

"So who do you think -?"

"Algernon _did_ give her a Valentine," said Claire.

"So did Nathan," replied Lily, thoughtfully. "Although, I've never seen Sirius so strange around a girl…"

"Me either," said Alice, sadly. "But I think she has a bit of a thing for Remus."

"_Really?_" hissed Claire. "Oh, but they'd be so _cute_ together!"

Lily nodded enthusiastically, and then paused, glancing over at her friend.

Eleanor was laughing and joking with an unusually jovial Severus, both of them smiling warmly at one another.

"Actually, it _might_ be Severus," she whispered slowly.

Claire and Alice stared at her, astonished.

"Well," she qualified. "He's never usually this quick to take to anyone, and they seem to be getting on famously…"

The three of them watched Severus laugh heartily as Eleanor's enchanted tape measure tickled him.

"You know, there was a rumour a month or so back that she and Severus were seen kissing in Hogsmeade…" mused Alice. "But… I was so _sure_ about her and Remus…"

She shook her head, trying to clear her own confusion.

_What is going _on? she thought.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor yawned; what with rehearsals and hormones (and a wholly unexpected sprint through the Castle) it had been one hell of a day, and she was exhausted.

She'd volunteered to get the costume list finished for Professor Sprout, so the last hour had been spent tabulating the various measurements against each person, and their various clothing needs. While it was mildly entertaining work (particularly when imagining her classmates wearing some of the costumes) she'd been at it for what seemed like a very long time, and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and her own, comfortable bed. She glanced up at the clock and groaned; it was already nearly midnight, and she had two doubles first thing in the morning – Charms and Transfiguration. If she made it to lunchtime without falling asleep or setting herself on fire it would be some kind of minor miracle.

Stretching, she gathered up the scrolls of parchment and extinguished the torches in what the majority of sixth year now thought of as the drama classroom with a lazy flick of her wand.

Depositing the measurements with a grateful Professor Sprout (and briefly taking pity on the woman, who was _still_ marking at midnight) she ambled her way idly through the dark school. She'd just crossed the Transfiguration Courtyard when, very slowly, all the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, one by one.

She paused, looking around; there was no one around, and yet…

She hurried forward, quickening her pace.

Someone was _watching _her.

Eleanor tightened her grip on her wand as she passed back into the comforting passages of the first floor corridor…

_That's funny_, she thought. _I wonder where all the portraits have gone… must be something interesting happening somewhere else…_

Just before she reached the end of the corridor, she heard a soft sound, only a few feet behind her.

She froze.

She hadn't intended to.

Realising, to her growing panic, that she couldn't move, she tried with all her might to will herself free of the hex.

That strange soft sound behind her was closer now, but try as she might, she couldn't see… one by one, the torches in the corridor went out.

She strained to hear anything in the muffling darkness.

Nothing.

She tried to banish her panic, but she couldn't; the knowledge that she was alone, and helpless, and more frightened than she'd ever been in her life just wouldn't go away. She felt a tear run down her cheek and form a drip under her chin.

If she'd been able to move, Eleanor would have jumped a foot in the air when someone behind her gave a low, throaty chuckle, breath hissing on the skin of her neck.

"Not so clever _now_, are we _babe?_" someone whispered, and her blood turned cold.


	17. Eleventh Aside, A Light in the Dark

It was a tiny sound that woke him; the quiet scraping of his hangings along their rail. He looked up, befuddled with sleep, to see a silent shape in the darkness, standing above him. Forcing himself to stay still, in case this was another brilliant idea of Padfoot's, he sniffed the air, not making a sound. The shadow didn't _smell_ like Padfoot; it didn't smell like any of the boys…

There was the smell of parchment about them… and darker, unfamiliar smells that he couldn't quite place… but mostly, what he could smell was pure, unadulterated fear. He frowned. What reason could someone standing over a sleeping boy have to be afraid? It didn't make sense; he inhaled again.

There was something under the fear, he realised, a note that was familiar: spiced wine… and fallen leaves… and frost… and wood smoke… and blood.

_Oh Gods_, he thought. _Ellie!_

He half sat up, moving over to give her room, and she sank, silent and trembling, into his arms. Grabbing his wand from the cabinet, he closed all the hangings around his bed.

"_Muffliato_," he hissed, and the sounds of his friends' snores faded.

He pulled her closer; she seemed to be quivering in his arms, curled up against him as if she were trying to make herself smaller…

"I'm here," he murmured, soothingly, rubbing comforting circles across her back. "It's alright, you're safe, I've got you…" he could feel the frightened thump of her heart against his chest as he rocked her back and forth, yet _still_ she was making no sound. "You're safe, Ellie, it's alright, I'm here," he repeated, willing her to be ok and fighting against his own rising panic. Her face was damp, he realised, as she pressed it into his shoulder.

Running his hands up and down her back, his fingers caught on a snag in her shirt – then another – and another. Drawing back slightly, he raised his wand.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, then swore.

The snags he'd felt in her shirt were rips and burns… someone had torn a whole sleeve off one side, and there was only one button left, hanging by a delicate thread as if by sheer will power alone. He glanced down, and saw that her skirt was similarly tattered; it had been ripped nearly in two on one side. Her tie was nowhere to be seen… For all that, someone had wrapped their jumper around her, the telltale gleam of green and silver stitching around the neck partially identifying its owner.

He realised then, that he was shaking almost as much as she was; a fury like he'd never known was taking hold of him, and he had no desire to stop it.

Gently, he lifted her chin, allowing her golden hair to fall away, and stared at her, aghast. She'd been crying mutely, as far as he could tell, for some time – her eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear tracks amongst the dirt on her face; he brushed some of them away with his thumb. She winced. Her face was swollen with deep bruises and cuts, and in places blood was mingling with her tears.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," he said softly. "Who did this to you?"

She stared back at him numbly, unable even to speak.

He felt the growl start deep in his gut; the wolf was stirring now, baying for the blood of those who had hurt his mate. He could _smell_ them on her… he wanted nothing more than to rip out the offending throats. Remus rather had to agree with him, but right now, Eleanor needed them.

"Please, you have to tell me – Ellie, I'll never let them near you ever again," he growled.

It might have been his choice of words, or the certainty with which he said them, or even the subtle tone of dark, possessive violence that did it, but her eyes focussed properly on his.

Her mouth opened and closed a few, soundless times.

"Please, love. You have to tell me," he encouraged, rubbing her back.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"M-mulciber," she whispered, and the timbre of his growl deepened. "A-and Ros-ier," she sobbed, wrapping her arms about herself. The fabric of her torn shirt shifted. Suddenly he realised what had been bothering him… under her shirt her skin was bruised and bare…

"They – your –" he reached out, unable to ask her, and touched the place that the strap of her bra should have been. He glanced down at her skirt: under the tear the very top of her thigh was visible, and there was no fabric there either. Eleanor gave another wracking sob. "Oh, my heart – they _didn't_ –" he said, shaking with rage and horror.

"N-no," Eleanor managed. "They tried, but they didn't get that far. Almost…"

She shuddered, and he pulled her closer.

"We have to get you to Madame Pomfrey –"

"No!" Eleanor cried, and Remus jumped in surprise. "No, I – not the Hospital Wing!"

"Shh, it's alright, we can stay here, I won't make you –" he held her and rocked her again, and she stopped struggling. "But… why not?"

"S-severus told me – he said, last time – they waited until Madame Pomfrey had gone to sleep – it – they – Mary MacDonald –"

Remus closed his eyes; Mary had been his friend… she'd pretty much been everyone's friend. He'd always wondered why she'd refused to tell anyone about her attack – even though most of the student body had suspected…

Wait –

"Severus?" he asked, looking down at the green-edged jumper that was wrapped around her like a blanket.

"H-he stopped them… came out of nowhere. If he hadn't, they –" she broke down, clinging to him.

He held her tightly, making soothing noises and stroking her back and hair.

"They can't get in here," he said softly, and added privately _and if they did they wouldn't make it out again alive_. "You're safe now…"

Gently, he laid her down in the bed beside him and pulled the covers around her – she was shivering, despite the warmth of the summer night. Lying beside her, he pulled her once more into his arms.

"It's alright, I'm here…" she clung to him as he extinguished his wand. "Shhh… it's ok."

Gradually, her wracking sobs quietened and became soft snores… she was holding his hand tightly in the darkness; it wasn't until he knew she was asleep that he allowed himself to uncoil a little. Hot, angry tears splashed down his cheeks and into her hair.

Rosier and Mulciber were dead men walking.

0o0o0o0

It seemed to Remus that he was dragging his way to groggy wakefulness from the nightmare of his life…

He'd been chasing someone through the halls of Hogwarts, and every time he caught them he'd start ripping and tearing at them until there was nothing left but blood and gore and tatters of skin. Then it would begin again. All night he'd been tearing and flaying and dismembering… and that was the strangest thing, because he would have expected the wolf to have been sated by now, but he was still furious… they both were.

Someone shifted sleepily next to him, and he remembered the previous evening with vicious clarity. Turning to look at her, his hand balled into a fist. Even in the gloom of the four-poster bed he could see that she was in a bad way, the bruises and swellings making her almost unrecognisable. She was still holding his hand…

He could hear movement outside now, and very gently he pressed his fingers to her mouth.

She shot awake, and briefly struggled against him until she realised who he was; she stared at him in confusion, and Remus removed his hand from her mouth and pressed it to her lips. He motioned in the general direction of the morning boy noises emanating from the rest of the dormitory.

Getting the message, she settled against him once more, wincing as various of her injuries came into contact with him, or the bed, or just decided to make themselves known.

"Oy, Moony!" Sirius called, from somewhere beyond the muffling hangings. "You coming to breakfast or what?"

Making sure he sounded muffled and unwell, he let out a groan.

"You alright mate?" came James's voice from the other side of the room.

"Feel like hell," he said, groaning again. "Didn't sleep."

"You want us to get you to Madame Pomfrey?" asked Sirius, whose voice was now a lot less jovial and a good deal closer.

"No, 's alright, you'll miss breakfast. I'll catch up with some sleep and see you in Charms…"

He could smell Padfoot on the other side of the hangings now, pausing, as if trying to decide whether to leave him to it or just drag him straight to the Hospital Wing.

Despite everything, Eleanor smiled into Remus's chest; these boys really did care for one another.

"Well…"

"Oh, come on Pads, leave it – he said he was fine…"

"Alright. But if you aren't any better by the end of Charms I'll drag you down there myself."

"Poof," said Peter good naturedly, apparently grabbing his stuff. There was the brief sound of a neighbourly scuffle.

Someone – probably James – sighed.

"See you later Moony," he said, and left.

"Yeah, feel better mate," came Peter's voice, muffled because of the friendly head lock Sirius had him in.

"Yeah, you get some sleep Moons!"

There was the sound of a door slamming and the noise of the fight diminished along the corridor. Finally, everything in the dormitory was still.

"We should probably give it about half an hour before getting you to the Hospital Wing," said Remus quietly. "Everyone will be in class…" he pulled one of the hangings open a crack so he could see her better. "Oh, _Ellie_," he said, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her blotchy, purpling eyes.

She rested her battered head against his shoulder.

"I must look a right state," she said, miserably.

He nodded, and she rolled her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to agree," she said, and suddenly he knew she'd be ok. With great relief he sent a silent prayer to whomever it was that looked over misbehaving teens; he chuckled, drily.

"Sorry… I didn't want to lie to you though… and at some point you'll see for yourself."

Eleanor grimaced, and then grimaced some more as various parts of her face protested against the movement.

"But Madame Pomfrey will fix you up in no time, and then you'll be as beautiful as ever…" he trailed off; Eleanor had begun to cry again. "Oh love, I'm sorry," he said, pulling her into a warm hug.

"It's – it's just if I – I've never thought of myself as particularly pretty," she said, sniffling. "But if this is what happens to people who are considered beautiful then I don't want it. She should just leave my face the way it is…"

"No," he said, firmly, rubbing her back. "Because then they will have won."

Eleanor appeared to think about this.

"You're right. They _aren't_ going to win," she said, fiercely, and he was intensely proud of her. "If only I'd kept my mouth shut at Valentine's…" she mused, quietly. As frightened as she had been, and as appalling an ordeal it had happened to be, her mind had painted a very different picture in the bright light of morning, wrapped tightly in Remus's warm arms. "They've done this before, haven't they…"

"Mary MacDonald," confirmed Remus, sadly. "She never told anyone what happened…"

"They threatened her… crept up on her when she was sleeping… in the Hospital Wing… where she thought she was safe… I can see why she didn't..." She paused, and he felt her stiffen against him. "Well it won't work _this_ time," she said, and it was very nearly a growl; the wolf in him pricked up his ears. "I won't let them hurt anyone else!"

Remus kissed her hair.

_And that's why I love you_, he thought.

0o0o0o0

They'd managed to get all the way to the Hospital Wing without anyone other than a few very concerned portraits seeing them, which in Hogwarts was some kind of minor miracle. Madame Pomfrey wasn't in her office when Remus tried the door (which was unusual for mid-morning), so they both sat down on a bed to wait. Eleanor's earlier anger, which had carried her all the way to the Hospital Wing, muttering angry curses under her breath (some of them in French, Remus noted) had faded now, and left her weak and trembling. Remus was very glad that he'd thought to wrap his blanket around her as they'd left the dormitory… he couldn't tell at the moment whether she was shaking with cold, fear, or annoyance with herself, but whichever it was it worried him. He put an arm around her shoulder, and she laid her head against his neck.

"Remus?" she asked, in a small voice.

"Yes, love?"

"Thanks…"

"Nothing to thank me for, didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I –"

"I wouldn't have got out of bed yet… let _alone_ made it out of the dormitory. I wouldn't have slept last night, and I certainly wouldn't be this coherent," she poked him gently in the ribs. "So shut up, and let me thank you."

"Well, you're welcome, then."

They both looked up as Madame Pomfrey appeared at the far end of the corridor; she was accompanied by Professor Slughorn, who appeared to be levitating a stretcher ahead of him.

When they got into the Hospital Wing proper and caught sight of Eleanor, both of them stopped dead in their tracks.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Professor Slughorn, as Madame Pomfrey let fly a volley of French curses that made Eleanor blush under her bruises. "What in Hecate's name is going on in this school?" the Potions Master exclaimed, clearly distressed. "First Mr Snape, and now you!"

Madame Pomfrey was advancing on Eleanor with a look torn between intense concern and abject rage at what someone had done to her, but Eleanor had shot out of Remus's arms at her friend's name, leaving the blanket crumpled at his side.

"Severus!" she cried, and rushed to the stretcher; its occupant gave a groan of recognition and she grabbed his hand.

"We – er – found him outside the Library," said Slughorn, clearly astonished at this new development. "Seems to have been trying to get in – we think he was running from someone…"

Remus joined Eleanor by the stretcher, and suppressed a gasp. If Eleanor had looked roughed up it was nothing to what they'd done to Severus. The boy was in a bad way; he looked like he'd taken some pretty nasty hexes before they'd taken him down, and he was bruised and bloodied, as if someone had been kicking every inch of him they could reach. All for protecting Eleanor…

A fresh wave of anger washed over Remus, and he growled.

"I know who did this," he said, through gritted teeth. Eleanor looked up at him and nodded, giving her permission.

"Wh-" began Professor Slughorn, but Madame Pomfrey got there first.

"You can tell us in a moment Mr Lupin, once I have them settled. Horace, if you would put Mr Snape over there, please? Miss Wren, follow me."

Eleanor caught Remus's hand as she passed him, and pulled him along; he was all too happy to acquiesce. Honestly, the thought of leaving Eleanor – even for a moment – galled him.

"See to Severus first," said Eleanor. "He's worse – and I've slept…"

Madame Pomfrey shot Remus a glance that suggested she understood perfectly where Eleanor had been, (and didn't necessarily approve) but agreed.

He sat beside her while they waited for Severus's skin to return to a more human shade (or at least, a more Snape-like shade).

Professor Slughorn was hovering in a worried and fatherly way, eyes flicking between Snape (who, after all, was one of his house) and Eleanor, whom he'd tried and failed to initiate into his 'Slug Club'. Once or twice he eyed the way Remus and Eleanor were holding hands, but – probably in light of the situation – didn't say anything.

Soon enough, Severus was being propped up against his pillows by the tutting matron; not for the first time, Remus was reminded of a prim, white hen, fussing about her brood. Severus looked over at Eleanor and grimaced.

"Didn't look as bad in the dark," he said, wincing as he spoke.

"I – if I'd known what they'd do I'd have let you into our Common Room," said Eleanor, as Remus nodded emphatically.

"And wake up to forty-odd angry, un-fed Gryffindors? I'm not sure I'd be any better…"

"They would have stopped at a few hexes," said Eleanor bluntly.

"Now, Miss Wren," said Madame Pomfrey. "Your turn."

She pulled Severus's jumper from around Eleanor's shoulders and let out a gasp.

"I – you're –" the matron took a deep breath and collected herself. "Miss Wren, what happened to you? Your clothes are torn and – certain articles are… _missing_."

Eleanor looked up at Madame Pomfrey, and whatever internal strength of will it was that had been holding her together shattered.

"Exactly what it looks like," she said, and burst into noisy tears.

Madame Pomfrey stared at her for a moment before taking command.

"Horace, fetch Professor Dumbledore," she ordered, and for once the notoriously vague Slytherin heeded her tone of voice and departed at a speed Remus had never before considered plausible in the rotund and older man. "Miss Wren, I'm going to get you looked at," she said in a much gentler tone, and turned to Remus. "Mr Lupin, if you could leave –"

She got no further as Eleanor latched herself onto his shirt and refused to let go. He wrapped his arms around her again.

"It's alright Ellie, I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly, pointedly giving Madame Pomfrey a look of such defiance that the matron was visibly taken aback. She might have expected such behaviour from Sirius, or even James, but Remus was usually so biddable that her mind was required to make a flying u-turn.

"Very well," she said, eyeing them with a frown, but I will need Mr Lupin to wait outside the screens – I _do_ need to see to you…" Her expression had softened considerably, and Remus made an effort to unlace Eleanor's fingers from his clothes as the older witch summoned the screens.

"Come on Ellie, she's right – I'll be right here, just next to Severus… all you need to do is call out for me…" reluctantly and miserably she allowed him to pull away. "I'll be right here," he repeated, as the screen whizzed past him.

"Now, Miss Wren, let's get this off you…" said the matron from behind the screen. "That's right… oh, my dear… what _have_ they done to you…"

Remus turned away, angry and ashamed that he hadn't been able to protect her. He looked at Severus, whose wounds were healing now; the Slytherin was frowning too, and moved his gaze from the screens to Remus's troubled face.

"Thank you," said Remus, quietly.

"I did it for her," said Severus, not unkindly.

"I know… but if you hadn't…"

The other boy nodded.

"I cut it pretty close – they'd got pretty far by the time I caught up with them…"

"I'm sorry – for what they did to you," and this time he snarled audibly as he continued. "I will see them answer for that."

Severus raised an eyebrow, both at his words and his tone.

"Thank you…"

Their eyes slid towards the screens as Eleanor let out a whimper.

"You two seem further on," commented Severus, trying to quiet the cold rage that the sound had elicited in him.

Remus, too, was struggling to contain himself.

"A little… there are, well, _complications_."

Severus looked him up and down, shaking his bruised head.

"Bloody Gryffindors, always being noble…"

"That's enough bad language from you," said Madame Pomfrey, tolerantly, drawing back the screens.

Eleanor was dressed in pyjamas now, and looking a good deal less bruised. She was still sniffling, however.

She reached out to him as soon as Madame Pomfrey left her side and he took her hand, sitting next to her on the crisp, white, Hospital Wing linen.

"You ok?" he asked, quietly, and she nodded.

Glancing at Madame Pomfrey, who was far enough away for them not to be heard.

"Tell the others," she hissed, urgently. "I want them to know. I want everyone to know. They won't get away with what they did to me, or Mary, or Severus," she glanced at him, and he nodded his assent. "I have a feeling the teachers won't want you to…"

"I told you, you're worth breaking the rules for," he said, gently, and she leaned in against him.

Severus shook his head at them, exasperated; try as he might, he couldn't stop the corners of his lips twitching upward.

0o0o0o0

Remus walked slowly down to the Transfiguration courtyard, trying to decide how, precisely he would murder Mulciber and Rosier.

Upon his arrival, Dumbledore had asked, very quietly, and clearly in some distress, what had transpired. Eleanor had told them: Professor Slughorn growing more agitated as her story progressed, Madame Pomfrey sitting on her other side and rubbing her back, Professor Dumbledore sitting before her, fingers steepled and the twinkle gone from his extraordinarily blue eyes. Remus had remained as quiet as he could, but it wasn't always possible, given the topic.

She told them how she'd been walking back from Professor Sprout's office and the torches had gone out… how the hex had held her in place while they took their time with her… how they'd hurt her, and _touched_ her… fingers and hands and lips and _teeth_ all over her petrified body, where they had _no right_ to be… how they'd been about to _enjoy _her when Severus came sprinting around the corner, hurling hexes and screaming like he was demented.

He'd released her from the Body Bind and they'd run as hard as Eleanor could manage, and he'd wrapped his jumper around her when they had had to pause for breath. He'd taken her as far as the Gryffindor Common Room, and told her not to go to the Hospital Wing – Madame Pomfrey had looked appalled when Severus broke in and told them what had happened to Mary – and that he'd be alright. He'd made her promise to get someone to help her before he'd taken off at a sprint, and she'd retreated into the Common Room, and to Remus's bed.

If any of the teachers were surprised or scandalised by this titbit, none of them showed it, instead assuring Eleanor that she had been Very Brave.

Then Severus had explained that he'd noticed Mulciber and Rosier watching Eleanor, and how everyone _knew_ who had hurt Mary, and why she hadn't spoken out – the bastards had actually bragged about it to the other Slytherins after she'd left – but he couldn't say anything, because he knew what would happen if he did. He told them how he'd been keeping an eye on Eleanor, since no one was likely to believe him if he raised his suspicions with the staff, and how Crabbe had told him that his housemates were off somewhere that night – they'd asked him to create a distraction elsewhere with Peeves, so that the portraits wouldn't be there. He made a point of expressing that Crabbe probably had no idea what they were about…

He'd been running through corridors at random, desperately trying to find them for nearly half an hour before he'd heard their cruel laughter. When he'd left Eleanor outside the Gryffindor Common Room he'd tried to get back into the Slytherin Common Room – they wouldn't be able to hurt him there, he knew Slughorn had anti-hexing protocols in place – but they'd caught up with him at the entrance to the Dungeons.

It was fairly obvious what had happened next, but he'd described it anyway.

By the end of it, all three staff members were looking their own versions of murderous; Remus had never thought Slughorn could _be_ that angry.

Dumbledore had made it very clear that Mulciber and Rosier would not escape punishment, to Slughorn's fervent agreement, and that Eleanor and Severus should try to get some rest.

He'd commended Severus's actions so highly that he'd blushed the same colour as his bruises, and had even praised Remus for staying with Eleanor through the night, before dismissing him.

He'd very deliberately looked at Eleanor for her permission to go, and she'd nodded; he'd promised to come back at lunchtime.

So here he was, kicking at flagstones and plotting the timely demise of two of his classmates…

He barely looked up when Professor McGonagall admonished him for lateness, and she was so stunned at his blatant disregard for her presence that she caught his arm.

"I don't expect a lack of respect from you, Mr Lupin –" she began, but he simply held up the note Professor Dumbledore had asked him to deliver and dropped down next to Eleanor's empty seat as soon as she took it, aware that the strictest teacher in Hogwarts was glaring at him, nostrils flaring. He could feel the eyes of the class on him, and for once, he didn't care.

"Mr Lupin, you will see me after cl-" she began, but the contents of the note had caught her attention; she clutched at her chest in understandable horror. "By the Gods!" she exclaimed, and several people snickered, nervously. "You've just come from there?" she asked, aware of her audience, and he nodded, sullenly.

Professor McGonagall looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of her classroom. There were only about twenty minutes left until lunch.

"Very well, class dismissed," she announced to her astonished students and strode out without a backwards glance.

It was with great presence of mind that Lily and Frank took charge and helped their classmates return their rather boisterous turkeys to their original turnip forms, and ushered them out to grab an early lunch.

Remus let the chaos unfold around him and sat slumped in his chair, frowning deeply at the place where his friend and lover should be.

He looked up when he heard the click of the classroom door, though, and found his friends sat on the desks around him, worried expressions on their faces.

"This is about Eleanor, isn't it?" asked Alice. "Her bed wasn't slept in last night…"

"She was with me," he said, quietly, and waited for the sputters of shock to dissipate. "Not like that. She was attacked."

"She was _what_?" demanded Sirius, as the others gasped and swore.

"On the way back from rehearsal…"

He told them what had happened to her, and how Severus had paid so dearly for helping his friend. By the end of his description the whole room looked murderous, and Lily, Claire and Alice were wiping angry and appalled tears from their cheeks. Both Sirius and James had punched the unsuspecting furniture so hard that their hands were bloodied and raw.

"Is she going to be ok?" asked Peter, a steely note in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Physically, she's fine," said Remus, suddenly weary. He needed to get back to her…

"But after something like that," said Lily, anguished. "Oh Gods…"

"Did she say who it was?" asked Frank in a frighteningly calm tone.

Remus looked around. He'd omitted that particular detail in case they'd rushed off before he could finish, and wasn't looking forward to telling them. He wanted to be the one inflicting intense agonies on them, and stopping his friends would be nearly impossible. He nodded.

"Who?" demanded James, fiercely.

"Rosier and Mulciber," he said, gravely, watching the waves of fury break over his friends. He couldn't blame them, really, he'd been just the same, only hours previously.

"I'll kill them!" snarled James, eyes blazing.

"We knew it was them with Mary," said Alice quietly, a strange sort of light in her eyes that Remus had never seen before. "And none of us said anything."

There was a ringing silence after her universal accusation.

"We should make them pay for hurting them," spat Sirius. "Eleanor, and Mary, and Severus too."

Dimly, Remus registered that he hadn't called him 'Snivellus'.

Somewhere outside the classroom the bell rang for lunch, and they all jumped.

"I said I'd go back," said Remus, standing up. "I don't think they'll let anyone else in… I'm probably not supposed to have told you."

Lily nodded gravely.

"Send her our love," she instructed. "And tell her we're all here for her."

Remus surveyed the dark features of his friends before nodding, and it was understood that Lily had said that they wouldn't wait for the teachers to act, they'd do it themselves this time. It was understood, too, that Remus's nod was a permission from Eleanor to do their very worst.

"Enough," murmured Frank. "We are engaged."

Remus reached the door to the classroom and turned, fingers wrapped around the handle.

"Make them pay," he said, lips curling into a snarl.

0o0o0o0

Professors McGonagall and Slughorn seemed reluctant to let him back in, but Madame Pomfrey ushered him to a seat that had been set out between Eleanor's and Severus's beds, and Dumbledore gave him a tolerant nod. Eleanor claimed his hand almost as soon as he'd sat down, and managed to smile at him as the teachers withdrew to a corner to discuss the shortened futures of two of their students.

"How're you two getting on?" he asked, looking between his two friends.

"Better," said Severus, and to his absolute delight, Eleanor nodded.

"Between Slughorn's potions and Madame Pomfrey's charms we'll be up and about in no time," she said, looking much more like the Eleanor he'd fallen for. "How was class?" she asked, glancing at the teachers. Severus leaned imperceptibly closer.

"Informative," said Remus, carefully, and they both understood perfectly.

Abruptly, a large tray of sandwiches appeared in front of the students; Remus was suddenly aware that he hadn't eaten since the previous evening. Carefully, and without needing to be asked, he filled two plates with food and passed them to his convalescing friends before helping himself.

There was a companionable silence as the three of them masticated. Remus was astonished: surely food had never tasted _this_ good! He'd never turn up his nose at a chicken sandwich again, that was for sure…

"You know, I'm surprised they let me in," he said, through a mouthful of sandwich.

Severus snorted.

"They weren't going to, but Eleanor made it perfectly clear that if you weren't allowed in then she'd leave," he sniggered. "So they gave in."

Remus looked up at Eleanor.

"And?" she asked, though her cheeks were burning.

"Oh nothing," said Severus, clearly enjoying himself. "Especially since you two are _just friends_."

Eleanor threw a sandwich at him.

"Pass the pumpkin juice?" she asked Remus, with as much dignity as she could muster (Severus still laughing at them, between mouthfuls).

Checking that the teachers were otherwise engaged, Remus brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

"As you wish, my lady," he said.

He very nearly dropped the jug, however, when Nearly-Headless-Nick glided through the opposite wall at top speed.

"Emergency in the Great Hall!" he shouted. "They'll need you too, Madame," he added to the matron as they hurried off, Nick explaining as they ran.

"Mr Lupin, they are _not_ to leave their beds!" she shouted as she pelted after them, wand already drawn. "_I'm holding you personally responsible for their welfare!_"

Her shout echoed away down the corridor as they shared an eloquent look.

In all probability a variety of painful things were happening to two very specific people, only a few floors below them.

Eleanor stretched out more comfortably on her bed.

"Pass the sandwiches?" Severus asked, calmly. "Thanks."

For the first time in nearly a day, Remus smiled, and wound his fingers around Eleanor's.

They waited.


	18. Twelfth Aside, Friends Like These

He was always edgy when Remus wasn't well. He couldn't help it. Remus had told him once that when he was sick the wolf had more control over him… was closer to the surface…

Could more easily get out and hurt someone… and he knew that if he ever hurt anybody it would kill him…

Sirius was distracted, not paying attention to the incantation Professor Flitwick was teaching them – running through a hundred horrific situations in his head and how he would have to fix them…

In fifth year, after they'd gotten over the whole 'Sirius-nearly-killing-Snape' thing, James had stolen a bottle of Firewhiskey from Slughorn's stores and the four of them had proceeded to get foolishly and riotously drunk. Peter had been the first to pass out, and then James – both with silly grins on their faces, as far as he recalled – leaving him and Moony to finish the bottle.

He didn't remember much from that night, but he _did_ remember their conversation about the wolf. About how he was a lot like Remus, really, and how they both hated the dark and terrible thing that they became every month.

He'd made a promise that night. Remus had made him swear on his very soul that if he ever hurt anyone, Sirius would kill him.

So every time Remus got angry, or sick, or started acting strange, he worried. He had to stop any potentially dangerous situation before it could start. Had to, because he didn't really fancy the idea of murdering his best friend, and that's what it might come down to, however sweet or cuddly Remus and his inner wolf were.

As it was, it took him nearly the whole of double Charms to notice that Remus wasn't the only one missing that morning.

"Where's Eleanor?" he asked Lily, as they made their way to Transfiguration. He was lucky she'd glanced at his expression, really; if she hadn't been so taken aback by his look of intense concern, she would have hexed him right then and there.

"I don't know," she said, expression suggesting that he shouldn't have asked.

"Wasn't she at breakfast?"

"You were there, Black, didn't you see?"

"I was too busy worrying about Remus…"

"Why, what's wrong with him?" she asked, pulling him to one side.

"He's sick, or something – wanted to sleep it off and said he'd meet us in Charms, but…" he gestured at the passing crowd.

"But he's not here…" finished Lily, biting her lip. "Oh, I hope he's alright…"

Her expression was softer now, and Sirius decided to grasp what opportunities he could while they were available.

"Listen, Evans – what I said to James, I'm really sorry. I was well out of line… you're just right for him, and nothing you do together is any of my business. I shouldn't have said it."

"Damned right you shouldn't," she said, eyeing him warily. Deciding that this time he might actually mean it, she went on: "It's not like you to apologise. Or to start a fight with James."

He looked at her, and made a swift decision. If James could trust her, so could he.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Naturally," she replied, in way said 'better than you can'.

"I… you know I ran away from home in the summer?"

Lily shook her head, frowning.

"Well, I did. I'd had enough. I'm something of a disgrace to my family," he continued, and the sadness in his eyes made him, for a moment, unrecognisable; she laid an unexpected hand on his arm, and he jumped at the contact. "I – they don't like who I hang around with – all that crap about blood purity – and, hell, my best friend's a you-know-what." He took a breath, aware he was babbling. "Anyway, I got a letter from my mother last week, told me that my little brother is more than making up for me as a total loss. He was initiated as a Death Eater."

Lily swore.

"He's only a fourth year!"

Sirius nodded, sadly.

"I tried to talk him out of it… that's where I was Friday night… and after that I couldn't sleep – I couldn't even think – that's why I started with James, I –"

He stopped, stunned; Lily had enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Wha-"

"Shut up, Black. Sometimes even you need a hug," she said, giving him an extra squeeze.

Astonished, and more than a little grateful, he returned the hug, but this being Sirius…

"You know, if Prongs sees this…"

"Then my vengeance will be complete," grinned Lily. "Oh, you didn't think you were forgiven, did you? I accept your apology, but I'm still more than prepared to wreak revenge."

"I'll watch my back then," he said, but couldn't keep his usual infectious grin from creeping back onto his face.

"You do that," she smiled, and they hurried to Transfiguration, surprising everyone by sitting down next to one another at the last bench; he could feel Prongs's eyes on the back of his head, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Settling in, he was startled to notice Lily pushing her notes closer to him, the words: 'So, why 'Prongs'?' written at the top in her neat handwriting.

Trying not to grin, he wrote back:

'I'll give you three guesses…'

'Urgh, boys.'

There was an interlude while they both took notes on animal transformations, then:

'Remus still isn't here… nor Eleanor.'

Sirius frowned and glanced around the class; she was right… and they weren't the only ones. Mindful of his audience, he added:

'Or Snape.'

It was Lily's turn to look around in confusion.

'Maybe there's something going 'round?' she suggested, then wrinkled up her nose. 'I hope it's not Dragon Pox…'

He'd just been about to give her a Look when a pale, sullen and strangely silent Remus had walked in, completely ignoring Professor McGonagall until she'd taken his arm.

_This is it,_ thought Sirius, suddenly, _this is the day I'll have to honour that promise…_

He fingered his wand uneasily as Remus held up a note and continued to his seat, dropping into it without even glancing in their direction. Everyone was staring at him (including Minnie, and her stare was _legendary_), and he wasn't even _flinching… _

_No, but he _is_ shaking_, thought Sirius, and took a closer look at his friend. His shoulders were tight, his jaw clenched; he wasn't sick at all, it was anger that was making him shake like that.

Professor McGonagall had been about to give him the dressing down of his life, but appeared to have been distracted by the note; seeing so clear an expression of horror on his favourite teacher's face was disturbing to say the least, but it was nothing compared to the shock of seeing her abandon a class full of rampant turke-nips.

As they rounded up the flapping vegetables, Sirius glanced at his friend; he was still sunk sullenly in his seat, staring at Eleanor's empty chair, jaw clenched tight.

Something was very, very wrong… and Eleanor was missing… and so was Snivellus.

0o0o0o0

They didn't have to wait long.

Severus was just finishing his second plate of sandwiches when the first strains of utter chaos reached their ears. There were unintelligible shouts in the distance, followed by a series of loud bangs; Eleanor sat up, wincing a little, trying to see the end of the corridor. Some kind of minor explosion rocked the Hospital Wing, and someone shouted in pain.

It sounded a lot like Peter.

Remus was on his feet in an instant, wand in hand, but Mulciber got there first.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted, and aimed his wand directly at Eleanor. "Don't even think about it! You did this, you little _bitch_! Thought you could make a fool of me, did you? Thought your little friends would protect you?" he sneered at Severus. Looking at him, Mulciber had been on the receiving end of several fairly inventive jinxes; his left arm was a funny blue colour and patches of his hair and robes were still smoking. "Well it didn't work, did it? And now I'm gonna make you pay!"

"Just try it," growled Remus, and Eleanor knew without seeing his face that he and the wolf were very much together on this one. His shoulders were tight – his whole body tensed, ready to pounce.

"Oh, going to try to protect your little girlfriend, Golden Boy?" the larger boy taunted. "You should have seen her last night – _I _saw _all_ of her – she was so _obliging_ – ready and willing –"

Remus launched himself at Mulciber, punching and clawing everything he could reach. Surprised, probably, that the smaller boy would ever try such a thing, Mulciber staggered backwards under his assailant's unexpected strength.

_BANG!_

Remus hit the wall of the Hospital Wing with a sickening crunch, and fell to the floor, head lolling against his chest. Before she could react, Mulciber had her petrified again, and she fell, face down on the floor; dimly, she could see a trickle of blood run from the corner of Remus's mouth and down his chin.

She could hear Severus and Mulciber circling one another now, Severus dragging his leg every other step…

A warm sensation crept through her body, and she realised that she could move again; Severus must have released her non-verbally – now if she could figure out the right moment to act…

"_Sectumsempra!_"

"_Crucio!_"

Severus's spell hit the wall with astonishing force, deflected by Mulciber's unforgivable. His spell, however, hit home.

Eleanor leapt to her feet as her friend's screams filled the air, and grabbed for her wand – but not before a jet of light hit Mulciber square in the back. Wildly, she looked around for their saviour; Madame Pomfrey was stood in the doorway, panting.

"That is _quite_ enough," she shouted, her usually calm countenance utterly destroyed. She hurried to Severus to check on him.

Eleanor turned to Remus, trying not to tremble as she checked his pulse.

_Beat-beat, beat-beat, beat-beat…_

She sagged in relief at its reassuring percussion and took his face in her hand; he groaned, and blinked groggily.

"… Ellie?" he asked, sounding Confunded; Eleanor nearly giggled in relief. Abruptly, his eyes flicked up to something behind her.

Mulciber was on his feet again, by this point looking quite demented.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted, spitting blood from his own mouth. Menacingly, he approached Madame Pomfrey, who, wandless now, put herself directly between him and Severus.

"_Conjunctivus_," yelled Eleanor, and a jet of yellow light hit Mulciber's face. He screamed in rage and pain and stumbled back towards her.

He didn't reach her.

Crabbe, who had a few scratches of his own, was stood in between them. Silently, he looked between Eleanor and Mulciber, who glared at him blearily through his red and streaming eyes.

"Get out of the way, you _idiot_!" he shouted, but Crabbe didn't move. "Fine!" he spat, and aimed his wand at his housemate.

Slowly and carefully, with a look of great concentration, Crabbe raised both fists in the air and brought them crashing down on Mulciber's head. He crumpled like a broken doll.

For a few seconds there was complete silence in the Hospital Wing, as everyone stared at him. Then, slowly, he turned to Madame Pomfrey and offered her a hand, which she took, bewildered.

"Th-thank you, Mr Crabbe," she managed, and shook herself. "Could you help me get your classmates into the beds, please?"

He nodded, and reached down to Severus, who was now paler than ever; gently and with a delicacy that seemed unlikely in a boy of his size, he lifted the boy as if he weighed no more than a feather, and deposited him back on his bed.

As he was treating a befuddled and astonished Remus with equal care, Professor Slughorn reached the door of the Hospital Wing, out of breath and very red in the face.

"Everything's under control, Horace," said Madame Pomfrey, weakly. "Do you think you could collect Mr Pettigrew, please? I believe he was a little way down the corridor."

"Yes, of course," he said, looking around in awe. "He was sat up when I passed him, but he looks a little worse for wear…"

Pointedly ignoring Mulciber, Crabbe took Eleanor's hand and gently led her to her bed.

"You alright, Miss?" he asked, in his gruff voice.

"Yes – thank you – I," she sputtered, and he patted her hand.

"Shouldn't hurt girls," he said.

"Well, thanks, Crabbe…"

"Wilbur."

"Wilbur?" she tried to keep the surprise out of her face and voice, really she did.

"Yes, Miss."

"Well then – it's Eleanor to my friends."

He gave her a smile like the dawn breaking through the clouds, and went to help Professor Slughorn with Peter.

Eleanor hopped off her bed and went unsteadily over to Remus, who still looked as if he were trying to clear his head.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said softly, stroking his hair.

"Yes I should," he said, and grimaced.

"Let me look at him, Miss Wren," said Madame Pomfrey, nudging past her. "Hmmm. Not too much damage, you were lucky…" she muttered a few healing spells over him, and his face visibly relaxed. "You'll have a bit of a headache for a while, Mr Lupin, but it should clear fairly quickly… Now, Miss Wren, back to your bed – yes, I know you're worried about him, but right now _I'm_ worried about you. Sit."

As soon as Eleanor was reinstalled in her bed, Remus sat himself on the edge of it; Madame Pomfrey tutted at them, but made no move to dislodge him and went to see to Peter, who had been hit by some kind of creation charm and had small prickly flowers sprouting from his face and hands. He gave her a covert thumbs-up when Madame Pomfrey's back was turned.

There was a commotion at the end of the corridor; Lily, James, Sirius, Frank, Alice and Claire were being marched into the Hospital Wing by an incensed Professor McGonagall.

Lily's arms were singed in places, but she was supporting James, whose knees appeared to be on the wrong way; Frank was being supported by both Alice and Sirius, who were both sporting deep scratches and cuts. Frank's eyes were a little cloudy, and his face was purple and blotchy. Hagrid was carrying Claire, who was a funny yellow colour; as soon as she saw Peter, however, she grinned and clamboured out of Hagrid's startled arms, hobbling over to him and giving him a big kiss. She collapsed into the bed next to him as Madame Pomfrey tutted and fretted and fussed.

Alice caught sight of Eleanor and cried out:

"We got 'em Ellie! They'll think twice next time!" a fierce light in her eyes.

"That is _enough_, Miss Roberts!" snapped Professor McGonagall. "You and your friends have earned enough detentions today to last until the end of term – don't make me give you more in the next!"

One by one, as they were treated, the assembled students gravitated towards Eleanor and Severus's beds, arranging themselves around the two, as if reassuring themselves that they were alright. Peter even gave a speechless Severus a gentle and companionable clap about the shoulders.

Crabbe, it turned out, made a skilled and biddable healer, to the general bewilderment of his tutors, who usually struggled to instil in him the simplest of charms. Madame Pomfrey kept a close eye on his work, but she gave him the odd encouraging nod and was even now looking him over with a faintly proprietary air.

"You alright, love?" asked Sirius, settling himself on the other side of Eleanor.

"I will be," she said, fondly. "What on earth did you lot _do_?"

James gave her a grim smile.

"Well, we reckoned lunch was our only chance – we were going to wait until we could surround them, but… things got out of hand."

"Got out of hand," chuckled Peter. "You mean, Alice took them in hand."

Alice raised a scratched but defiant face to their stares.

"Well?" she said. "They had it coming."

"I don't think they quite expected you to take a flying leap at them as they sat down for lunch," mused Lily. Alice blushed, and Frank kissed her hair, affectionately.

"You did _what_?" asked Remus, incredulous.

"Screaming and howling like some dread banshee," said Sirius, who sounded immensely proud of her. "It was bloody spectacular!" he announced, to general agreement.

"I'm sorry I missed it," said Eleanor, and Severus and Remus nodded emphatically.

"We all piled in after that," said Frank. "Hurling charms and curses like there was no tomorrow – Crabbe pulled Alice off Mulciber –" he glanced at the larger boy, who was hovering uncertainly at the edge of their group. " – gently though, just held her arms by her sides…"

"I tried to get her loose," said Claire. "But he was too strong." She gave Crabbe a shy smile. "At some point when I was pounding on his arms, he asked what was going on, and I told him…"

"You sort of screamed, actually," added Alice.

"… and he let her go, and ran after Mulciber."

"Shouldn't hurt girls," repeated Crabbe, looking uncomfortable.

"I think it's ok if they're currently trying to scratch your eyes out," said Lily reasonably.

"We took some serious damage from the other Slytherins," said James. "Which is as it should be," he continued, fairly. "We'd do the same if a Gryffindor was attacked. It took a while to get Rosier down, and we stopped attacking once we had –"

There was a faint gurgle from the other side of the Hospital Wing; Severus glanced in Mulciber's direction. He'd been uncertain, so far, about speaking, but curiosity moved him now; Rosier was an excellent duellist, and his defeat intrigued him.

"What in Poseidon's name did you do to him?" he asked, quietly.

"I got in a Jelly-Legs," said Claire.

"Bat-Bogey," said Lily.

"Tarantallegra," added Frank.

"I hit him with a stinging jinx," said Alice.

"Rictumsempra," said James.

"Slug-vomiting charm," shrugged Peter. "Seemed appropriate."

"I just hit him," said Sirius. "My wand got knocked out of my hands… I did try a non-verbal knee-reversal hex, but I think I hit James… sorry," he added, as several of them snorted.

"No worries, mate – heat of battle."

"Rosier managed to hit Claire with some kind of weird purple slashy thing, but I don't think it worked properly," said Lily, frowning. "Anyway, that was more or less when the teachers arrived and put a stop to things…"

"I ran after Mulciber," said Peter. "But he was hurling jinxes at me over his shoulder and I couldn't duck them all – the last one hit me right in the face. I thought the world had exploded. When I woke up I thought I'd been volunteered for a special experiment with Sprout… What happened when he got in here – I heard shouting but everything was pretty vague until Slughorn passed me."

Eleanor told them; they went 'ooh' and 'aah' in all the right places, and when she told them about what had happened to Remus and Severus there was a general cry of outrage; when she got to the bit where Crabbe had come to the rescue, a general cheer. Lily and Alice kissed the blushing boy on each cheek.

"S'nothing," he said. "What they did to Mi- to Eleanor was wrong… and they shouldn've hurt Sev'. He was right to help her, and he's one of us. That should mean something."

Nine pairs of eyes moved from Crabbe to Severus, who coloured.

"That's twice you've thrown yourself into the fray," said James, thoughtfully. "I know you're going to say you didn't do it for me, but thanks, mate."

There was a general burble of agreement; Claire ruffled his hair in a companionable sort of way, much to his surprise.

"Oh don't look that astonished," said Sirius, gravely. "You're part of the family now."

Severus stared at them all in turn.

"Merlin help me," he said.

0o0o0o0

Their companionable chatter ceased abruptly when Professor Dumbledore returned; he was leading a stretcher with Evan Rosier pinned to it. He was bubbling, faintly.

"I am very disappointed in you," he announced quietly, to the room at large, and suddenly everything seemed distinctly less funny. "While I am in no way condoning their actions, you had no right to attack your fellow students. I will speak with your heads of houses concerning contacting your parents." He looked over his half moon spectacles at them. "This was very foolish of you."

A sense of burning shame washed over the group.

"Mr Lupin and Mr Crabbe, however, have acted sensibly and in defence of their fellow students. I am awarding you twenty house points each. Miss Wren and Mr Snape, in light of your actions and given what you have been through, I am awarding you thirty."

"Please, Professor," said Eleanor, suddenly very weary. "They were trying to protect me – to stop it happening again."

"I am aware of this, Miss Wren. However, we cannot allow students to take the law into their own hands, nor punish those they feel have wronged them. I'm sure you'll agree that such a system could be abused."

"But Sir –"

"_No_, Miss Wren," and this time his tone indicated that these words were final. "The use of magic or brute force against your fellow students is unacceptable," he glanced at Professor McGonagall, who was deep in conversation with Professor Slughorn. "However much we may feel they deserve it. Given the circumstances, however, I am willing to give you all a second chance. Assuming that no further such incidents occur, your month of detentions will suffice – your Hogsmeade privileges have been suspended until the end of term." He looked around at them, and added with a softened expression. "However… let me put your minds at rest: Mr Mulciber and Mr Rosier are no longer welcome in this school, and since they are both of age they will shortly have to face the Wizengamot." He sighed. "That it should come to this."

They were quiet for a moment, as he surveyed them.

"And now I think, those of you that have been released should depart for the afternoon's lessons," he glanced at Professor McGonagall once more. "And I would strongly suggest that you keep your heads down."

There was a general shuffling about of chairs as they left, every one of them instructing Severus and Eleanor to rest, and telling them that they'd be back to see them after classes. Both Sirius and Remus kissed Eleanor's cheek as they left, Remus giving her hand an extra squeeze as he went.

Dumbledore waited until they had gone.

"Miss Wren, during the chaos that occurred over lunchtime, I had the belongings of Mr Mulciber and Mr Rosier searched – your bracelet and necklace were recovered."

Eleanor smiled, properly, for the first time that day.

"Since Filius, Minerva and Horace have all seen them, I can return them to you now… A curious trinket," he observed, passing the bracelet over. "You know, in my mother's day, such gifts were given instead of rings as tokens of engagement."

Eleanor started, blushing.

"R-really Sir?"

"Indeed, although they were simple bands then, rather than twisted…"

"It's a Möbius strip…" she said, though she didn't really know why. "It symbolises infinity."

"Does it now?" said Dumbledore, and this time when he peered over his half-moon spectacles, the twinkle was well and truly back in his electric blue eyes. "I should keep whoever gave you that bracelet close to you, they seem to care for you greatly."

Eleanor, far too embarrassed to speak, wondered again whether Dumbledore could read minds. He stood.

"Both your parents have been informed of your assaults, and invited to reassure themselves of your return to health… I shall inform you of their decision to visit when I receive their messages." His face once again grew grave. "I am truly sorry that such things came to happen to you here," he said. "But I think you may take comfort in the ardent if misguided responses of your friends."

0o0o0o0

At about half past four, Severus had received a note from his mother, expressing her relief at his recovery and apologies for staying away. She was quite busy, apparently.

He hid it rather well, but Eleanor could tell it bothered him.

It was a relief, therefore, when the evening brought the return of their friends, who deposited an unlikely volume of sweets on their bedside cabinets. Algernon Zabini and Wilbur Crabbe came to visit Severus and bring him some books; Crabbe sidled over to Eleanor while Algernon and Severus were deep in conversation and presented her with a bouquet of origami flowers. He went redder than ever when she thanked him and kissed his cheek. They were truly a sight to behold – all different colours and patterns on their paper, and several different types of flower. Most of their year, solidified by both the play and their disgust at Mulciber and Rosier, brought get well cards for them both, and stayed to chat for a while before being chased out by Madame Pomfrey, who made the occasional show of checking the students over.

All the boys but one, it turned out, had hit on the idea of bringing Eleanor flowers (courtesy, she suspected, of the Orchideous charm), and she got flustered every time she saw how crowded her bedside table had become. Remus had opted to bring her a slab of chocolate from his secret stash instead, along with her book of sonnets, both of which she accepted gratefully as Lily and Frank chattered on about homework and Wilbur taught Claire how to make origami daisies.

Eventually, Eleanor fell asleep to the burble of their voices, her head resting lightly on Remus's shoulder; when she awoke it was night-time, and the only light was from Severus's bed.

He was reading by the light of his wand.

"Hey," she said, groggily. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten – you sort of passed out on us, are you alright?"

"Didn't realise how tired I was…" she stifled a yawn. "Still am, I suppose."

They both glanced up as the sound of hurrying footsteps approached the doors; as they opened, the torches flared into life in their brackets.

"Ah, Miss Wren, your mother is here," announced Professor McGonagall, and Eleanor had only a few startled moments to run a hand through her rebellious hair and straighten her pyjamas before her mother swept into the room.

She was an impressive sight, clad in robes of deep purple, overlaid with cobweb lace; hands gloved in exquisite black silk. Her golden curls were hidden beneath a fabulous hat, from which a veil of the same cobweb lace extended, obscuring her features. They stared at one another for a moment, then something tight in Eleanor's chest loosened, and when she smiled it seemed to Severus that the weight of the whole world had been lifted from her aching shoulders.

"Maman!" she cried, as the older woman rushed to her.

"Oh, my treasure!" she cried, holding her daughter tightly. "What 'ave zey done to you?"

Severus tried to concentrate on his book, deeply embarrassed to be intruding on them… though part of him was desperately curious about this mysterious woman who concealed her face and even now was comforting her daughter in hushed tones. They were speaking in French, as far as he could tell, and he therefore had absolutely no idea what either was saying, except that every so often Eleanor's mother would gasp, or Eleanor would suppress a sob… Given the influence required to continue to conceal one's face in the Castle, he surmised that Mulciber and Rosier had indeed selected the wrong girl to molest. If Madame Wren's tone was anything to go by, they'd be lucky if they escaped a summary execution, let alone Azkaban.

Once or twice he caught his name, or one of his implausible new-found friends, and he did his best to look uninterested – that is, until Madame Wren addressed him directly.

"Master Snape, I am een your debt. You 'ave saved my beautiful treasure from defilement and assault. Eef ever you should require it, I will be at your service."

"Really – there's no need – I – she's my friend," he stammered.

"En effet," she said briskly. "And you 'ave proved a very dear friend – and paid 'eavily for eet, my daughter tells me." Although he couldn't see her face, something in voice suggested that she was smiling. "I would she 'ad more friends like you, mon jeune maître. As I said: I am een your debt."

Severus decided that, on the whole, this would be a diplomatic time to give up.

"Thank you, Madame – but I was not alone in your daughter's defence…"

"So Dumbledore tells me," she laughed, and her laugh was just the same as Eleanor's. "And I weell no doubt 'ave zee pleasure of thanking zem at a later date – but you alone prevented matters from, shall we say, escalating, and for zat, I thank you."

"Madame," he nodded politely, blushing.

"Hélas, my sweet, I must leave you – I 'ave some theengs to discuss wiz your 'ead of 'ouse, oui?" she looked at Professor McGonagall, who nodded.

"If you are content to leave your daughter," she said, and Severus detected a note of sympathy there he didn't often observe.

"I am never content," she sighed. "But we are used to eet now, n'est pas?" She bent and kissed Eleanor's forehead. "Unteel next time, mon petit roitelet. Au revoir."

"À bientôt, maman," Eleanor replied, a little sadly, and they watched her mother sweep back out again.

"I'm going to assume that her name is not Madame Wren," said Severus, carefully.

"No…" said Eleanor.

"Erm…"

"Oh, right, spasmodic French… er, 'en effet' means 'indeed'; 'mon jeune maître' is 'my young master'… 'n'est pas?' is roughly 'is it not?'…"

"And 'petit roitelet'?"

To his surprise, Eleanor blushed a little.

"'Little wren'… it's what she calls me."

"Well I suppose it makes sense, as a nickname…"

Eleanor snorted.

"At least she didn't call me 'ma petite chou' this time."

"Why?"

"It means 'little cabbage'."

0o0o0o0

It was well past midnight when Eleanor next awoke; she was aware of a presence next to her bed, but she couldn't see anyone there…

Abruptly, Remus's head appeared, as if from nowhere, and it was all she could do not to shriek.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she hissed.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered, pulling off what had to be an invisibility cloak and stuffing it into his bag.

"What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you… budge up…"

Eleanor smiled and moved to let him sit down; except he didn't sit down. Pulling the blankets away, he settled down beside her, their noses almost touching.

"You'll lose all those points if you're not careful," she whispered.

"I don't care, I needed to see you."

"Needed?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No… and I wanted to make sure you weren't having bad dreams or anything," he admitted, and she could feel his hot breath against her face. "I missed you."

"You were only here a few hours ago," she whispered, incredulously.

"So?" he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I still missed you… it's weird you not being around the Common Room of an evening."

"Hopefully this won't be for too long…"

"Yes."

They were quiet for a moment, content to simply feel one another's presence.

"Remus?" Eleanor asked, carefully.

"What?"

"I'm really glad you're ok…"

"It's my tough werewolf blood," he said, and nuzzled his nose against hers.

"Well then, for once I'm glad you have it…" she paused. "And I'm really glad you're here – even if you do get detention for the rest of your school life."

"And what's wrong with comforting a friend?"

Eleanor had to stifle her giggles.

"Nothing, except that it's probably inappropriate to climb into their sick bed in the middle of the night…"

He kissed her smack on the nose.

"What do they know? I happen to think a human hot-water-bottle is the best cure for anything."

This time, they were both fighting their laughter. Somewhere in the darkness, Severus rolled over.

"Do you two mind?" he asked, sleepily.

"Sorry!" Eleanor whispered.

"Sorry!"

Their eyes met, and they were giggling again.

"Really?" asked Severus. "This is the thanks I get?"

"Sorry Severus, we'll behave," said Remus, struggling to keep a straight face.

Eleanor snuggled up to him in the darkness, and the tension he'd been holding onto all day finally relaxed. She was safe, and warm, and in his arms; gently, he kissed her neck – she smiled, eyes still shut, and he knew that she was asleep.

"I love you, Ellie," he murmured, before he too drifted into a comfortable slumber.

0o0

"Of all the –" hissed Poppy Pomfrey, but Madame Buchardt caught her wand hand.

"Let zem sleep, Poppy," she said.

"It's against the rules," said Poppy, uncertainly.

"And every young person must believe zey 'ave successfully broken zem at least once," said her old friend. "Besides, I trust my daughter's judgment. Zees young man ees 'onourable, I assume?"

"She probably couldn't find his better if she tried."

"Well zen…"

"Oh, very well… I imagine you're straight back to Paris?"

She nodded.

"Eet would 'ave been good to catch up," she said, real disappointment in her voice.

"Another time."

"Oui. Take care of 'er, ma chère amie…"

"I always do," said Poppy, quietly, as she watched her childhood best friend walk away. "I always do…"


	19. First Interlude, of Socks and Stations

The Castle had never seemed so clean and ordered as it did in the fortnight leading up to the end of term; with seven of the sixth-years in detention every week-night they didn't have rehearsal, the teachers were beginning to run out of things to make them do. Shelves were organised, bottles labelled, ingredients rearranged… the kitchens, bathrooms, Hospital Wing and cauldrons gleamed in the summer light… Professor Sprout's usually chaotic potting shed had been cleaned out and her growing beds were so tidy and healthy that she was almost afraid to touch them. The greenhouses sparkled. Hagrid's pumpkin patch had been weeded, and the strawberry beds replanted. Even the Owlery had been cleaned out, much to the puzzlement of the school owls, who had watched their strange human invaders with great interest.

The thing that most mystified the teachers, however, was that their charges took each job without complaint and worked steadily and companionably until they were finished – often staying to finish jobs until after their official detentions ended. They were also frequently and unobtrusively joined by Eleanor, Remus and Severus, and occasionally a selection of other students from their year.

"I can't understand it," said Horace Slughorn, watching the toiling students below – joined today by Algernon, Wilbur, Nathan and Dorothy – from the staff room window. They were tidying the courtyard gardens, most of which hadn't even seen a watering can in the last twenty years, let alone a pair of pruning shears. "I'd never have taken a detention I hadn't earned when I was a lad, and here we have so many volunteers that there just isn't enough work for them."

"They feel they've earned it," piped up Filius Flitwick. "I asked Longbottom. They're making amends for injuring those two-" he broke off, momentarily unable to find a rude enough description. "- skrewt-eating sons of hags. Even though they deserved it."

"I think Lupin, Wren and Snape feel they're just as culpable… or guilty that they aren't also in trouble – Crabbe too in his own way – is he still volunteering with you Poppy?" asked Pomona Sprout, stirring her tea. On her colleague's nod she continued: "Which just goes to show that even the least biddable student can prove us all wrong."

"It's how they're fitting in all their homework and revision with the detentions and rehearsals I can't figure out," said George Kettleburn, folding up his copy of the Daily Prophet. "I mean, you'd think their work would suffer, but their grades have stayed the same – improved in some cases."

"They've organised themselves into study-groups," said Filius. "In shifts. The whole of the sixth year has turned into some kind of roving military support-group. I've never seen anything like it."

"They've been through a fair whack, these last few weeks…"

"Yes, but _why_ the rest of the year, that's what I want to know," continued Horace, rather caught up on this thought.

"Oh Horace, isn't it obvious?" asked Pomona, somewhat exasperated. "It's because of what happened to Mary."

"That was a sorry set of circumstances," said Filius, quietly.

Most of the staff room nodded soberly.

"I think they feel they should have said something… or looked after her a bit better…"

There was a pregnant silence.

"You know," said Pomona, getting to her feet. "I think I'll just go and see if they need a hand out there…"

"Yes," agreed George. "I could do with a bit of fresh air."

Horace coughed.

"I – er – might be able to knock up a growth potion or two for those roses…" he said.

"I was just saying to George the other day," said Poppy. "I don't get outside as much as I'd like…"

"Perhaps I could get those fallen walls repaired…" said Filius, abandoning his tea.

0o0o0o0

There had been howlers, and angry letters from the parents of muggleborns, of course, but they'd expected those, and borne them with surprising dignity. Frank's mother, who had flooed in specifically (and without Dumbledore's permission) to shout at her son, had encountered a startled Eleanor and recognised her from the photographs he sometimes sent home. She had rounded on Eleanor at once, who had stood and taken the tirade and then told the formidable witch precisely what Frank had been responding to. Mrs Longbottom had given her a long hard stare, but patted her sootily and ferociously on the back and retreated back into the fireplace from whence she had emerged smiling grimly.

Much of the last week that wasn't spent engaged in various detentions was spent outside in the sunshine, lounging about in the grass, watching the tentacles of the Giant Squid glide about the surface of the lake – sometimes they'd run through the lines of the play, or play games, or read, or talk, or just _be_. They were aware that their time as a part of their ramshackle surrogate family was ticking shorter, even though the summer was only a matter of months in duration. Both Sirius and Severus were getting less and less jovial as their time grew shorter, which everyone was doing their best to ignore; while the majority of them didn't know about Severus's home life (though Eleanor suspected that Lily knew), they could guess. Eleanor, however, as the last few days approached she was less sad than excited, eagerly anticipating both the beginning and the end of her upcoming journey.

The last day of term was hot and humid; it was the first time in a long while that no one had detention (possibly on the basis that the teachers wanted them all out of the school with the least amount of fuss possible the next morning. Eleanor had spent the day relaxing in the Common Room with the boys, playing exploding snap and helping James drink up his illicit store of Butterbeer. Come the evening she was taking her time about packing, preferring to use magic to fold her clothes and organise her belongings. It was far too hot to do it the muggle way.

Both Lily and Alice had gone off with their respective young men to make the most of their remaining few hours together and she'd been left in relative peace, so she was singing softly to herself while she sorted and ordered and cleaned.

"_Early one morning_

_Just as the sun was rising,_

_I heard a maiden sing_

_In the valley below._"

It was a song her mother had taught her when she was small, and sometimes Estelle had sung it when she couldn't sleep, or when she'd brushed through her hair. It always reminded Eleanor of home.

"_Oh, don't deceive me,_

_Please never leave me,_

_How could you use,_

_A poor maiden so?_"

Although Eleanor was really going to miss her friends she was beginning to ache for the gardens around the chalet; it was the simple things she missed…

"_Remember the vows_

_You made to your sweet one,_

_Remember the bow'r_

_Where you vowed to be true._"

… like the mouth-watering smell of the local bread or the sweet, clean taste of the mountain air, or the great crashes of thunder as the summer storms chased themselves around the nearby peaks.

"_Oh, don't deceive me,_

_Please never leave me,_

_How could you use,_

_A poor maiden so?_"

She missed Estelle's cooking, and the smell of Henrì's pipe smoke, and the way they'd sing or hum as they worked so that it seemed like there was always music around the secluded valley.

"_Gay is the garland_

_And fresh are the roses,_

_I culled in the garden_

_To bind on thy brow._"

She missed the cool, silvery water of her hidden lake and the feel of the grass beneath her feet…

"_Oh, don't deceive me,_

_Please never leave me,_

_How could you use,_

_A poor maiden so?_"

… the complete peace that could be found while dozing in the swing seat on the veranda in the baking summer sunshine…

"_Thus sang the poor maiden_

_Her sorrows bewailing,_

_Thus sang the poor maid_

_In the valley below._"

… the delight of running in from the rain and wrapping up in an old blanket, sipping real hot chocolate and watching the oversized raindrops pound against the windows of her cosy little room.

"_Oh, don't deceive me,_

_Please never leave me,_

_How could you use,_

_A poor maiden so?_"

"That's pretty," said Remus, from the doorway, making her jump. "Sorry…"

"You know, I've half a mind to make you start wearing a bell or something…" said Eleanor, clutching her chest dramatically. "_How_ do your shoes make that little noise?"

Remus shrugged, smiling.

"Must be the hunter in me," he said, moving a pile of clothes and sitting on her bed. "I'm going to miss you," he said, gazing up at her.

"And I you. Even if you do creep up on me half of the time," she said, and he chuckled, holding out an arm so she'd go to him.

"If Lily or Alice comes up –" she said, but allowed herself to be pulled into a hug anyway.

"They're busy," he said, muffled a little by her stomach.

She ruffled his hair, affectionately; ruefully, he looked up at her, resting his chin lightly on her stomach, arms still wrapped around her legs.

"I wish we could be less covert than this," he said. "Or that Sirius would announce that he's fallen for – I don't know – Dorothy Cottingley, or someone…"

Eleanor snorted.

"Is that the Ravenclaw who enchanted a pair of fluffy slippers to follow him around last month, because he sniggered at her when she accidentally turned her feet pink in Charms?"

"The very same."

"Unlikely, then…"

"Yes… Ellie, I know we said that this could never be anything if Sirius made a move, but…"

"That's a big 'but'…"

"Actually, I think it's just right," he said, patting her on the bottom and flashing her a wicked grin.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she said, biting her lip.

"Do what?"

"Smile like that – it gives me ideas."

"Good to know, I shall have to do it more often…"

"I fear we've come off track…"

"Oh, right, yes. Er…" he shook himself. "… _but_ what if he never makes a move?"

"This _is_ Sirius we're talking about here."

"True, but he hasn't even been slapped since Bonfire night, and he didn't actually deserve that one."

"Hmm," she mused. "I don't know."

"Something to think about…"

"Yes."

"Which perhaps would be easier to think about if we were in any way able to _not_ molest one another," Remus continued, amused at his own lack of self control.

"This coming from the man with his hands on my arse."

"Well, exactly. There's a case in point." He gave her bottom a squeeze and that mischievous sparkle was back in his eyes. "To be fair, _you_ could be pushing me away in outrage, but instead you're playing with my hair and leaning in to me."

"Seemed like the thing to do," she said, amiably, and they both grinned. "What?" she asked, as his face became more serious.

"It's just – I don't really want to bring this up, but – I was wondering if, after the attack, you'd be less comfortable with me…"

"Being handsy?"

"… keeping in _touch_," he finished, smiling awkwardly.

Eleanor thought about it, frowning.

"No. Because when they… when they touched me, it _hurt_. I was afraid – all I wanted to do was to get as far away from them as I could, and then shower. Repeatedly. And you," she said, straddling his lap to make her point. "When _you_ touch me, I want to do _this_," she said, taking his chin lightly in her hand and kissing him soundly for a full minute. "And then shower…" she continued breathlessly and waited until his expression was one of deep confusion before adding, "_with_ you. Repeatedly."

She watched with delight as his smile developed and snuck up one side of his face; he raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he asked, in a voice that was close to a growl; she could feel it reverberate through his stomach. It wasn't _all_ she could feel, either; it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.

"… it's my wand, I swear," he said, colouring.

"Oh, so you won't mind if I do this then?" she asked, pressing herself closer. His hands flew to her hips and his eyes fluttered closed.

"Ellie…" he said, breathily.

"Yes, oh composed one?"

"You try my patience," he said, and this time it really was a growl; when his eyes opened there was amber mixed into the grey in equal measure. Boy and wolf were both very much of an accord on this one.

"Well," she said fondly, kissing him on the cheek. "You try mine… and it's not like we'll see each other in months."

"True…" he pressed his face into her hair and inhaled deeply. "I shall miss your scent…" he continued, and she knew that this, too, was the both of them agreeing. The wolf was always more direct, his words more sparse… she got the feeling that in some ways the wolf could be what Remus never seemed to let himself be: confident and unequivocal. People always seemed to underestimate him because he had a tendency to hide the best of himself, and it bothered her.

"What did you say the others were up to?" Eleanor asked, pulling away from him slightly.

"Illicitly canoodling in various parts of the Castle, why?" his voice was still a little unsteady, but she could hear the wolf retreating now, and his eyes were once more returning to that glorious clear grey that she'd long since fallen for.

"Because," she said and kissed him deeply. Remus, hands still caressing her hips, responded passionately, determinedly ignoring those parts of his brain that were insisting that making out with the love of someone else's life in the girls' dormitories was a Very Bad Idea.

She felt so warm and alive and _there_, all tangled up with him, her fingers lacing in his hair, thighs pressing him closer. For Eleanor's part she was caught between the delicious freedom of feeling her tongue slowly battle with his and the strong, burning need for more – more of him. She wriggled against him and he pulled her impossibly closer, running his hands down her back to rest on her bottom once more. He gave it another squeeze. He could feel her smiling as she kissed him.

Almost against his own will Remus's hands slid up from her hips, grazing along the gentle curve of her hips and across her stomach, stopping – quite unconsciously – on her breasts. He felt her start against him, and took her subsequent moan as permission to continue…

Deciding that he should be allowed to take her by surprise just as she had, he flipped her over onto her back and straddled her hips, spilling socks all over the floor; she squealed in surprise. He took a moment to take her in: she was looking up at him with laughter in her blue-grey eyes, short golden waves of hair spilling out around her like a halo. Her face was flushed and her lips swollen a little from their mutual onslaught; it occurred to him that he wanted nothing more in the world than to ravish her, right then and there, and he suspected that she wouldn't try to stop him.

He knew, though, that they couldn't take this further. Not now, not behind Sirius's back… however much they might both want to.

He leant down and kissed her again, but more softly this time; the tenderness of her lips against his told him that she more than understood, and this time when they parted he rolled off, lying beside her.

Eleanor sighed.

"I do believe I might be falling for you, Master Lupin," she said, giving a playful poke in the chest.

"And I you, my lady," he replied, taking her hand without even noticing.

"You'll ask your mum and dad if you can come out and stay?" she asked.

"The moment I get home – well," he frowned. "Probably not _the_ moment. I'll probably spend _that_ moment fending off the usual interminable questions about precisely what kind of trouble the boys have got me into this year."

"Doesn't surprise me," she smiled, leaning in to him. "I never thought I'd say it, but I think I'm actually going to miss the constant vigilance required for a quite life in Gryffindor Tower." She looked around at the mess they'd made of her neatly stacked clothes. "Well, so much for getting my packing done," she chuckled.

"Ah," he said, helping her up. "Largely my fault, I'd say – I'll give you a hand."

They spent a companionable few minutes magically reorganising Eleanor's belongings and fitting them into the trunk.

"You know, it'll be nice to be able to use magic at home this year," remarked Remus, as Eleanor packed the last of her belongings and turned to the organisation of her rucksack.

"Yes," she agreed. "I suppose it will…"

Remus looked at her.

"You've always been able to, haven't you," he said, with a wry smile.

"What can I say? My mother is an evil genius."

She frowned.

"What is it?"

"I…" Eleanor shrugged, struggling to articulate her sudden feeling of loneliness. "I'm just going to miss you, that's all. Well, everyone, really…"

"Come here," he said, and pulled her into another hug. "Serve God, love me and mend," he murmured into her hair. "I'll miss you too… but we'll all be back together in no time – and then you'll want nothing more than to be as far away from everyone as possible." She laughed into his chest as he added: "Well, as far away from Sirius's _brilliant_ ideas as possible, at any rate…"

Eleanor had been about to respond, but she nearly jumped out of her skin when Lily's authoritative voice demanded:

"Remus John Lupin! What in Hecate's name are you doing in the girls' dormitory? _Again_?"

They half broke apart and turned, Remus's arm still wrapped around Eleanor's waist, as if he didn't even know it was there. Lily and Alice were stood in the doorway, expressions of shock and mild annoyance melting away at some speed to mild amusement.

"And with your arms about Ellie, I might enquire?" added Alice, entirely failing to remove the delighted smile that was spreading across her features.

"I, uh-" he began, snatching back his arm and glowing crimson. "We were just – I – she – er –"

Fighting her own blush and deciding that it would be infinitely quicker and far less painful to intercede, Eleanor rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Remus, you'd think people weren't allowed to hug their friends," she began, and didn't fail to notice the look of incredulity on her roommates' faces as she went on. "I was just thinking about how much I'd miss you all, and Remus gave me a hug – then you two came in and scared the living crap out of us."

"Is that so?" asked Lily, not sounding like she believed it for a second.

"It's so," said Remus, awkwardly.

"Hmmm."

Remus looked between his three friends.

"I should – er – probably get out of the girls' dormitory…"

"Probably," said Lily, crisply.

"Ok, I'll – er – see you at dinner, then…"

He left the room with as much dignity as he could muster – as soon as the door was closed, however, they heard him bolt down the stairs as if his clothes were on fire.

Alice snickered.

"So…"

"What?" asked Eleanor, doing her best to look puzzled and mildly exasperated.

Lily perched on the end of her bed and motioned for the others to sit, too.

"So, it doesn't explain why he was up here in the first place," she said, quirking an amused eyebrow as she added, "unless he was stealing your underwear again."

"No, nothing like that," said Eleanor, hurriedly, trying to ignore Alice's snort of laughter. "He said he couldn't find anyone downstairs and was bored, so he came to see if any of us were about. I was in the middle of packing so he kept me company."

"And then there was cuddling," prompted Alice.

"I was sad – I," she frowned again, trying to explain her unexpected bout of unhappiness. "The chalet never struck me as lonely before, but after a year with you lot it's going to be terrifyingly quiet."

Alice stopped giggling.

"We'll write all the time," she said. "Like, every day."

"She means it," said Lily. "Between her and Frank and Severus I nearly went mad trying to write back in first year – and now there's the boys too. I'd be surprised if a single day passes this summer without an owl arriving from somewhere – and we'll be coming out to see you – I can't see anyone's parents objecting." She, too, frowned a little then, and Eleanor guessed that she was thinking about Severus.

Alice nodded, and noticing that Eleanor looked a good deal less upset, decided to broach to subject that she, Lily and Claire had been spending a good deal of time expounding on.

"Ellie…" she began, glancing at Lily. "We've been wondering… do you fancy anyone?"

"What? I – Why?"

"Well… there's these rumours going around," said Alice, carefully. "And all of them are about a different person, and we want to make sure that you're ok and don't get hurt and stuff…"

"Rumours about me?" asked Eleanor, mystified.

"Yes," said Lily. "About you and Sirius snogging in empty classrooms, you and Remus sneaking off together, you and Severus kissing in Hogsmeade, you and Nathan 'studying together', you and Algernon staying late together after rehearsal…"

"Really?" she asked, wide-eyed. What must the students of Hogwarts think of her? "But – I – no! Gah!"

"That's more or less what I said," said Lily. "Although I was a lot more coherent."

Despite the situation, Eleanor stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"I don't think any one of us thinks you're secretly dating all five of them," said Alice, reassuringly. "But we all – well, me Lily and Claire at any rate – know you're secretly dating _one_ of them."

"Of course I'm not dating all – wait, what?"

"We saw you," said Lily. "You were with someone in the fourth floor corridor in May – during rehearsal. Claire and I were practising the scene where we set up Beatrice and we saw you in the corridor."

Eleanor stared at her friend.

"You did?" she asked, weakly.

"Yes, and from the sounds of it whoever you were with was very much enjoying the experience," said Lily, gently prodding.

Eleanor studied her friends' expressions for a few moments, and gave in.

"So you were the ones behind the exploding suit of armour, then?" she asked, wearily, and Lily grinned.

"That was Claire – apparently it's called a 'rattler'."

Eleanor nodded, thoughtfully.

"Useful little charm, that…"

"So who were you with?" asked Alice.

"You didn't see?"

"No, he ran the other way, it was too dark to see him," explained Lily.

"Then I'm not telling you."

"What? _Why_?" demanded Alice.

"It's… complicated," Eleanor said, looking uncomfortable. "Look, it's not that I don't want to tell you, but it's… _complicated_," she repeated.

"How complicated?" asked Lily.

"Very."

"In what way?"

"That would require explanation…"

"True," Lily gave her a contemplative look. "But three heads are better than one when it comes to the solution of difficult problems."

"We won't tell anyone," Alice assured her. "And this way you'll have someone to talk about it with – bottling something like this up isn't good for you."

Eleanor heaved a sigh. If she couldn't trust them, after everything they'd done for her, she couldn't trust anyone.

"Alright, but you have to swear that you won't tell anyone, even the other people involved, and you won't interfere without my express permission."

"Naturally," said Alice.

"You have my word as a Gryffindor."

"Oh, wait – can we tell Claire? She's pretty much a part of this too," added Alice, quickly.

"Well, alright, yes – but none of the boys, for obvious reasons… well, reasons that will _become_ obvious…"

She was tempted to laugh then, at the expressions of her two roommates staring at her from their beds, rapt with attention.

"Right… I'll deal with the rumours first then… Algernon has been staying late after rehearsal with me, but that's because I'm still helping Professor Sprout with the costumes, and I don't want to be on my own, after what happened…"

"Understandable, really," said Alice.

"So he walks me back to the tower… I think he feels a little responsible for what happened, to tell you the truth."

"He's really quite sweet," said Lily. "I mean, we all knew he was one of the nicest Slytherins, but he really seems to be a decent person under all that green and silver – not that I'm saying all Slytherins aren't decent," she continued, floundering somewhat. "I just meant –"

"That he bucks the trend," said Alice, coming to her rescue. "As do the remaining members of his year, actually. I mean, who knew that Wilbur could be such a gentleman? Even Severus is friendlier than he used to be, and most of the girls too."

"I think they appreciated the lack of Bertram Mulciber as much as the rest of us," said Eleanor, and the others nodded. "I think some of the problem is the reputation of the House," she reflected. "Everyone expects them to be cold and haughty and unpleasant, when really they're just cunning and stubborn… If you treat someone as though they're horrible I think they'll start acting like that because, let's face it, being nice isn't working."

"You may have something there," said Lily, a little sadly. "Just take Severus… he's really not as bad as everyone makes out, and it's taken five and a half years of the boys treating him like shit for them to realise that."

There was a contemplative pause.

"Which leads us neatly onto Severus," said Alice, breaking the silence. "I heard from Miriam Morgan from Hufflepuff that you were seen kissing him in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day."

Eleanor snorted.

"I kissed him on the cheek," she said, still smiling. "He gave me a potions kit."

"For Valentine's?" Alice asked, clearly delighted.

"No… for – er – being a friend when he needed one…"

Alice looked at Lily, puzzled, but Lily looked like she'd finally understood something that had been bothering her.

"He's the one you stole the dittany for, isn't he."

Eleanor squirmed.

"Yes, but you can't say anything – not unless he tells you first –"

"Understood," she said, and smiled. "I'm glad someone was there for him."

"He was in a bad way," said Eleanor, sadly.

"Still, it's unlikely to happen again," said Alice. "I can guess who it was."

"So, where were we?" asked Lily. "Ah, yes, extended 'study' sessions with Nathan Perks."

"I really am just studying with Nathan," said Eleanor. "As you well know," she added, as Alice giggled. "Anyway, I have it on good authority that he fancies Ivy Owens, from Ravenclaw."

"Does he?" exclaimed Lily, despite herself, as Alice continued to laugh.

"You're as bad as me!" she managed.

Lily stuck her tongue out at her.

"Which leaves Sirius and Remus," said Lily, steering the conversation back to where she wanted it.

"Yes," said Eleanor with a sigh. "I can assure you that Sirius and I have _not_ been sneaking off to abandoned classrooms for a quick grope."

"So it's Remus?" asked Lily gleefully.

"Oh my Gods I knew it!" exclaimed Alice.

"You and Remus were snogging in the fourth floor corridor?" laughed Lily.

"And?"

"It's nothing – I just don't think I'll be able to keep a straight face the next time we're on patrol and he has to discipline someone else for it," she grinned, and Eleanor laughed.

"It would be a touch hypocritical…"

"So why are you sneaking around together?" asked Lily. "If you like each other enough for Remus Lupin to knowingly flout school regulations in a non-Marauder situation then you should be together openly." She frowned, as a distasteful thought struck her. "It's not because you don't want to be seen with a were-"

"Lily!" said Eleanor, affronted. "I would _never_ –"

"That's what I thought, I just wanted to check," her friend assured her hurriedly.

"It's because of Sirius," said Alice, who'd been keeping quiet.

"What?" asked Lily, as Eleanor nodded sadly.

"How did you know?"

"I saw you in Madame Puddifoots – the way Remus couldn't quite let go of you, and the way his hackles raised whenever Sirius was too familiar… And later, the way Sirius was looking at you in the Three Broomsticks."

"Wait – that was Valentine's Day!" exclaimed Lily, astonished. "How long has this been going on for?"

"A while… you're right, Alice. We think – well, we _know_ – that Sirius likes me. More than likes me…" She told them about the uncomfortable conversation she'd had with him that day.

"That _sucks_," said Lily, with feeling.

"We didn't think anyone had noticed," said Eleanor.

"I wouldn't have seen it at all if I hadn't been giggling about the three of you messing with Madame Puddifoot," said Alice. "And if I'd looked away even for a moment I'd have missed that kiss…"

"Hang on," said Lily, struggling to keep up. "If you were…" she paused, trying to think of an appropriate description.

"Illicitly canoodling?" suggested Alice.

"It wasn't illicit canoodlage – not then," said Eleanor. "More like a stolen moment."

"Ok, if you were 'stealing moments' as far back as Valentine's Day, when did all this start?"

"The Autumn Gala," said Eleanor, and Lily swore; Alice gave a low whistle.

"You've been keeping yourselves apart since _November_?" she shook her head. "I don't think I could have the stamina…"

"Wait," said Lily, haltingly. "You didn't start this because of – because of me, did you? Because of what I said about liking Remus at the start of term?"

Eleanor bit her lip and nodded.

"You wouldn't do it to Alice, he wouldn't do it to James, and I wouldn't do it to you… or Sirius."

"Oh, Ellie, I'm sorry!"

"Nothing to be sorry for – it wouldn't have been right…"

"So when Lily started going out with James you knew that you wouldn't be hurting her," said Alice, delicately trying to move them on. "But _you_ were still 'off-limits'?"

"Yes," said Eleanor, and told them about their agreement at the Gala and their subsequent difficulties. "… it's getting to the stage where I'm not sure how much longer I can wait for Sirius to make up his mind. I mean, I know we both said we'd stay apart for his sake, but…"

"You don't want to give him up?"

"I don't think I _can_," she said. "We're not really very good at the whole 'apart' thing as it is…"

"Well this whole situation is complete bollocks," said Alice. "What? It is!"

"No argument," said Ellie, trying not to stare at her usually mannered friend.

"At least you have someone to talk to about this now," said Lily. "I can't imagine how you've dealt with all this and not gone bonkers."

"It hasn't always been easy," Eleanor said, quietly.

"Well you're not alone anymore," said Alice, firmly. "And you have two more pairs of eyes to keep on Sirius – three, with Claire."

Eleanor smiled, gratefully.

"Thank you."

Lily shrugged.

"That's what friends are for," she said, and the three of them stood, ready to head down to dinner.

"They'll be wondering where we've got to," said Alice, amused.

"I'm sure they'll simply assume that we're up to something," snorted Eleanor, and ran a hand through her hair – still mussed, as it was, from her encounter with Remus.

It was a simple movement, but it didn't escape Lily's gaze.

"Eleanor, what's that?" she asked, pointing at her wrist.

"Er – oh, this?" she fingered the bracelet on her arm.

"Yes," said Lily. "It's beautiful."

"Here," Eleanor said, taking it off and showing the two girls. "Remus gave it to me – we weren't supposed to be doing anything for Valentine's, but…"

"But you aren't very good at 'apart'," finished Alice. "It's really pretty."

Eleanor nodded.

"There are words too," she said, and revealed the sonnet.

"That's so sweet!" said Alice.

"He's really quite mad for you," said Lily, smiling, and Eleanor blushed.

"You know," observed Alice, as they left the dormitory. "My aunt Enid told me that her mother didn't have a wedding ring – she had a bracelet instead. Apparently it used to be tradition to propose with… well, with something like that."

"Dumbledore said something similar," said Eleanor, quietly.

They shared an eloquent look.

"Interesting," said Lily.

"What's interesting?" asked James, bounding over to collect his girlfriend for the last time for months. He kissed Lily on the cheek.

"Oh nothing, we were just discussing traditions," said Lily, dismissively, ruffling his already messy hair.

"What kind of traditions?" asked Sirius, interested.

"Oh, you know, things that are different in the Wizarding world compared to the Muggle world," said Eleanor.

"What kind of things?" asked Remus.

"Nothing special," said Alice. "Festivals, religions, funeral rites… marriage proposals…"

Lily shot her a warning look, but Eleanor was watching Remus; he'd visibly started at the mention of the latter tradition, and looked straight at Eleanor. She gave him a small smile designed to relay absolutely no information whatsoever.

"You know," continued Alice, blithely. "Girl talk."

"Girls talk about funeral rites?" asked Peter, surprised.

"Sometimes," said Lily. "Did you know for example there's a culture in Africa that buries people twice in order to dislodge any vengeful spirits, and it's only after that second burial – about a year and a half after the first – that they deal with the will and stuff?"

"That's really morbid, Evans," said Sirius, as they reached the main staircase. "Oy! Longbottom! The girls are talking about marriage and stuff – I'd worry if I were you."

"Hardly," said Frank, as he joined them. "I already know who I'd like my life to be with, and he grinned at Alice, who blushed the same colour as her robes.

"Well maybe you should do something about that," said Alice, coyly.

"I intend to – although possibly after we finish school, simply because my mother would kill me for taking advantage of someone so lovely," he kissed his scarlet girlfriend on the forehead. "That work for you, sweetheart?"

"That works for me," she replied.

Eleanor thought that if Alice were to smile any wider then her head might fall off.

"Did Frank just propose?" asked Peter, astonished.

"As good as," said Sirius, equally nonplussed.

"Bloody hell!"

"Mr Pettigrew, if you would kindly refrain from bad language before the house points are totalled for the year I would very much appreciate it," said Professor McGonagall, sweeping past them in a billow of emerald tartan.

As the others moved ahead happily discussing one anothers' personal lives and the likelihood of a Gryffindor win for the House Cup, Remus dropped back to Eleanor's side. He seemed to be having difficulty meeting her eyes.

"Er – so, what kind of traditions were you discussing?"

"A bit of everything," said Eleanor, conscious of the large volume of people around them. "Like Alice said: funeral rites, festivals, marriage proposals, birth rites, that sort of thing."

"Oh… um… find out anything… interesting?" he asked, helpfully confirming Eleanor's suspicion that he knew _all about_ old wizarding marriage traditions.

"Oh yes, quite a few things," said Eleanor, innocently. She patted his hand, nonchalantly. "I'll write to you about them if you'd like."

"Er – ok," said Remus, who looked very much like a cornered man.

"Oy, you two!" cried Sirius, some way ahead. "Keep up! Anyone would think you were scheming back there!"

Eleanor snorted and hurried up to them.

"Remember," hissed James as they approached their tables. "No one make a move until after the winner is announced."

At the High Table, Dumbledore was raising his goblet for silence; the teachers were arranged beside him, chattering happily amongst themselves and looking forward to the holiday ahead. Eleanor really was going to miss this place.

"Another year gone!" said Dumbledore cheerfully. "And not without its trials and tribulations," he said, his eyes resting briefly on Eleanor and her friends. "But I have high hopes that there isn't a student in this Hall that hasn't benefited in some way from this year, and won't treasure the friendships they have forged. With any luck you'll all know a bit more about the world than you did in September, just in time for you to forget it all in your travels this summer."

Several people, mostly staff, chuckled.

"We are, of course, losing another year to the world, and I'm sure you'll all join me in wishing them the very best in finding their wide futures, even in these sometimes troubled times."

He looked very long and hard at the seventh years, many of whom looked sad to be leaving.

"I think I speak for all of the staff – and many of the students – when I say that you will be sorely missed. Now!" He said, and clapped his hands. "The House Cup needs awarding. The points stand thus: in third place, Slytherin, with three hundred and fifteen points; in second place, Hufflepuff with four hundred and fifty-two."

_Hang on_, thought Eleanor, looking around in confusion. _He's missed a house…_ Sirius caught her eye and shrugged as they applauded Hufflepuff. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter blow Claire a furtive kiss and she grinned.

"In joint first place," continued Dumbledore happily. "With four hundred and eighty-three points are Ravenclaw and Gryffindor!"

He clapped his hands over their cheers and above them the great tapestries changed from their usual full crest to alternately showing the great Golden lion of Gryffindor and the more sedate Raven of Ravenclaw.

As Dumbledore was waiting for the clamour to abate, all the torches in the Hall suddenly flickered out. Several people screamed…

Eleanor flicked her wand with a practised motion, knowing that the students on either side would be too; she hoped that Severus, Claire and Frank held their nerve.

When the torches began to come back on it was clear that something was amiss. A few people shouted in protest, but most of the students were laughing. Every single person in the Great Hall now either had crimson and gold or sapphire and black hair.

"Calm down," called Dumbledore over the hubbub; Eleanor was delighted to see that his beard had taken on all four colours. "I hope that this… example of high spirited House pride will subside following dinner?" he looked around the Great Hall, eyes lingering just for a second on Sirius and James, but no answer was forthcoming. Eleanor did her best to look innocent.

"I shall take that as a yes. Now," he said, once the laughter had abated somewhat. "The feast!

0o0o0o0

The train journey back to Platform Nine and Three Quarters was an enjoyable one, everyone chattering in the crowded compartments, and many people visiting friends in other parts of the train. It took a long time for them to get onto the platform when they finally arrived, jostling between the crowds with caged familiars and awkward trunks, but when they managed it Lily immediately dragged Eleanor over to meet her parents (who were as lovely as she was) and her rather unpleasant looking sister. Edging as imperceptibly as possible away from Petunia Evans, Eleanor scanned the crowd for her housekeepers, but she couldn't see them.

Lily gave her a tight hug and promised to write before leaving through the magical barrier, trying almost desperately to keep up a one sided conversation with her silently disapproving sister.

Alice was next to go, with her dad, who Eleanor had already been introduced to as 'Beatrice of Messina', then Peter and his mum, giving her a cheery wave as he disappeared into the Muggle station. Sirius was going home with the Potters for a while, and he gave her a tight squeeze as he left, and she took the opportunity to make James's hair worse for him; they too promised to write. James's parents had already agreed to let him join their party at the Chalet later in the summer, and his dad shook her hand cheerfully before shaking his head at his son's antics as he and Sirius chased each other around the station and through the barrier.

Claire pressed her address into Eleanor's hand as she ran to meet her father at another train somewhere in the Muggle station beyond.

She watched Severus greet a sour looking woman that she suspected was his mother; he appeared to point her out and Mrs Snape gave her a curt nod before they, too, slipped into the crowd.

"Well, Miss Wren," said a crisp voice from behind her. "I trust you are recovered?"

"Yes, thank you Mrs Longbottom," she replied, turning to meet the ferocious older witch. "I hope you're well?"

"I am, thank you." She gave her a grim smile. "Frank has informed me that you intend to have some kind of party at the end of the summer at your home."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"It's very kind of you to invite him."

"Not at all, Ma'am, Frank's a good friend."

"I'm glad to hear it. You will be supervised?"

"My housekeepers will be there – they take care of me," she added, a little self-consciously.

"Do they now…" said Mrs Longbottom, glancing around the housekeeper-less station. "Well, I'm sure they'll be no problem. Frank – you may go, if you wish."

"Thanks Mum!" he said, wisely having kept silent in the interim. "I'll see you in August then, Eleanor – and I'll write!"

"Likewise – have a good summer Frank!"

"It was a pleasure meeting you again, Miss Wren."

"And you, Ma'am."

She watched them as they, too, disappeared, and shook her head. She could understand now where Frank got his unexpected ferocity from; Mrs Longbottom was a formidable woman. Eleanor reflected that she'd probably get on very well with her own mother.

The crowds were thinning now, as people were collected and moved back into the Muggle world… and _still_ no sign of Estelle or Henrì. Eleanor frowned. They couldn't have got the date wrong… could they?

Remus, his own parents currently absent, wandered over, depositing his trunk next to hers and sitting on it. He looked strangely younger like that, though his long legs reached the floor; Eleanor had a sudden vision of a much younger Remus doing just this.

"My parents always come last," he said, by way of explanation. "They think fewer people will stare at me…"

"That's… thoughtful of them, I suppose," said Eleanor, fighting to keep the frown off her face.

"They're very nice people," he said, hurriedly. "They'd do anything to make life easier for me… I never had the heart to tell them that that would involve treating me like everyone else most of the time."

Eleanor laughed.

"Parents eh," she said.

"Indeed… where are your housekeepers?"

"I don't know," she said, looking around. "They should be here by now…"

"Perhaps they were held up," said Remus, "A late train or something."

"Yes…"

"Oh! Hi Mum! Over here!" he waved at a small, friendly looking witch who was hurrying over with her tall, patient husband in tow. Remus looked very much like his father, Eleanor decided, as they were introduced, but his eyes were definitely his mother's (as was his mischievous streak, she suspected).

"Are your parents not here yet?" asked Mrs Lupin. "We're usually the last here."

"Must be a late train or something," said Eleanor with a smile, but truth be told she was really beginning to worry now. What if something terrible had happened and they needed her? She'd have no way of finding them…

Some of what she was thinking must have made its way into her face, as Mr Lupin shared a look with his son.

"I think they'll be closing the platform soon," he said. "Why don't you walk with us to the main doors – your parents will be able to find you much more easily there…"

"Thank you, sir," she said, and followed Remus to the barrier, eyeing it warily.

"You just walk straight at it," said Remus. "Like this –" pulling his trunk behind him, he vanished into the brickwork after his mother.

"First time here?" asked Remus's father, and she nodded. "I never got used to all this magic stuff either," he told her cheerfully. "Still, it keeps me on my toes!" and with that, he too plunged through the barrier. Eleanor glanced around. She was the only one left apart from the guard. This was not good.

She met the Lupins on the other side of the brickwork in a bustling station full of crowds of angry people who all seemed to want to push her out of the way.

Possibly noticing her wide-eyed look Remus took her hand as his parents walked ahead and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Too many people?" he asked as a horde of Japanese tourists clattered past.

"By a wide margin," replied Eleanor, voice a little higher than normal.

It seemed to take forever to reach the main doors, and when they got there she still couldn't see a familiar face. Taking a deep breath, she took a leaf from her mother's book and gave the Lupins a brilliant smile.

"Thanks for getting me this far," she said. "I don't want to hold you up…"

"Nonsense," said Remus's mother, but she glanced at the great clock on the wall nonetheless.

"Really, I'll be fine," she said.

"Are you sure?" asked Remus, and suddenly Eleanor was very aware that she didn't want him to go. All the same, she gave him her very best withering look.

"Yes, I know I'm being patronising," he said, waving her look away. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

She couldn't help but smile at him, and that seemed to reassure him.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well, alright then…"

"It was nice meeting you Miss Wren," said Mr Lupin, shaking her hand.

"Yes, it's always good to meet Remus's friends," smiled Mrs Lupin.

"Right, well…" Remus said, uncomfortably, glancing at his parents. "Erm, bye then," he said and gave her a brief and incredibly awkward hug.

"I'll see you soon," said Eleanor, fighting to keep the blush off her face as colour crept up his neck.

"Yes… I'll write…"

"Me too. Bye."

She watched him as they walked out of the big glass doors and hailed a taxi. He was still blushing as he helped his father load his trunk into the boot, and from the amused expressions on his parents' faces they hadn't missed their son's discomfort.

He gave her an awkward (and quite worried) wave as he got into the car…

"Eleanor!" called Henrì, hurrying over to her in a swirl of alpine tweed.

"Henrì!" she cried, hugging her housekeeper tightly. "I was worried about you!"

"There 'as been some trouble – it can wait," he said, correctly interpreting her frown. His gaze shifted. "A young man is waving at you from that taxi…"

Eleanor turned, laughing, and waved at Remus, who looked a good deal happier now that she wasn't alone, watching his taxi move out into the London traffic.

"Shall we, Madamoiselle?" asked Henrì, taking her trunk, and they too left the confines of Kings Cross Station.


	20. Second Interlude, Stormy Weather

It didn't take long to reach the International Floo point, and Eleanor understood from Henrì's refusal to discuss the topic that whatever had been happening had stopped now and that he didn't want to tell her until they were back in the Chalet. So, while they were in the line marked 'Northern French Floo Connections', watching the man at the desk arguing with a very short, very angry woman who had apparently ended up in the wrong person's living room, Eleanor chattered to Henrì about school and the play and her friends.

"When is this performance?" he asked, only the faintest trace of his accent audible; Eleanor supposed it was because he and Estelle had spent so long speaking English around her, both their accents were quite faint now.

"Around the end of November," she said, smiling. "Will you come?"

"Certainly! It will be a pleasure," he grinned. "The 'ouse 'as been so quiet without you this year, mon petit roitelet. Though I 'ear from your mother your year at 'ogwarts 'as not been uneventful." His face darkened. "I would 'ave liked to meet those little…" he trailed off, glancing around him. "We were furious when we 'eard, but your mother told us you were alright..." He gave her a faintly absent pat on the head. "You seem to 'ave some good friends at that school."

"I do," she smiled, glad that she wouldn't have to go into any more detail on her ordeal.

"It is just as well," he added in a conspiratorial undertone. "Antoine volunteered to eat them for you."

Trying to hide her snort of laughter as they approached the harassed looking attendant, Eleanor gave her housekeeper a radiant smile.

"I might have let him."

0o0o0o0

"Eleanor!"

She was barely out of the fireplace when Estelle caught her in a flying hug, which she happily returned. The older witch's white hair was caught in a long plait today, and her simple work dress smelled promisingly of fresh bread and cocoa.

"I've missed you tatie Estelle," she grinned pulling away.

"And I you, ma perle, though I 'ave to admit it was a good deal more peaceful around 'ere this year."

"I shall have to make up for it this summer then," she said, innocently, and behind her Henrì gave a snort of laughter.

"I told you we would 'ave our 'ands full soon enough, Stella."

"You mind your manners, Henrì, our little princess is back in residence," she smiled fondly at Estelle. "You put that tongue away little madame. That's better. Now let me look at you…" She surveyed her charge critically for a minute and gave her a satisfied nod. "Even more beautiful than when you left!" she declared, and Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Henrì, get that trunk to Eleanor's room – I'll make something to eat, oui?"

Her housekeepers bustling off happily in opposite directions, Eleanor laughed to herself and looked around; the Chalet seemed much as it always had: airy and comfortable and cosy. She breathed in and tasted the sweet mountain air, so different from the slightly damp mugginess to which she had become accustomed in Scotland.

Tugging off her travelling cloak, she hung it on the hook by the front door and followed the sound of Estelle's humming into the spacious kitchen.

She sat at one end of the large, scrubbed wooden table and happily accepted her brioche and hot chocolate, relishing the remembered delight of scooping the top broth-like layer of the hot chocolate from the top of the mug with a spoon.

Estelle shook her head at her charge, before settling beside her with a large coffee; Henrì began to clean his pipe out on the stove.

"So," prompted Eleanor.

"So?" repeated Estelle, raising an eyebrow.

"_So_, what's going on? Henrì said there'd been trouble."

"Are you sure you don't want to get settled in first, ma petit chou?" he asked, from the vicinity of the stove.

"I am settled," said Eleanor, smiling. "I have the two of you, my hot chocolate and brioche, what more could I need?" She half turned to her housekeeper. "And I'm not a cabbage."

Estelle chuckled.

"You never did like that nickname."

"I never liked cabbage all that much. Stop changing the subject, tatie Estelle."

"I am sorry, little one. You are more like your mother every day," she said affectionately. "She never liked to be kept waiting either. There 'ave been some men…"

"They were asking questions," said Henrì. "We think that Monsieur Buchardt suspects… something. We are not sure if he suspects Violetta is 'aving an affair out 'ere, or if he has guessed who you might be, but he suspects _something_."

Eleanor considered this.

"They'll be back?"

"Most probably," said Estelle.

"What are we going to do?"

"We are going to do nothing," said Estelle. "If they are still watching the valley, as we think they might be, any changes would be too suspicious."

"But if they see me," said Eleanor, frowning. "I look so much like her."

"Mais oui, we must continue to conceal you… your mother 'as made it plain that she wishes you to continue to 'ave your freedom, as do we. She suggests that we use a Glamour – just for the duration of the summer."

"That's a form of illusion…"

"Oui. To everyone that matters – to us, Violetta, Antoine and your friends – you will appear to be yourself, but to anyone else you will look like a fine, young French girl." Henrì smiled. "We wanted to make it believable, so we 'ave decided that you should look like Estelle when she was a girl."

Estelle grinned at her.

"You are lucky, I was quite the catch was it not?"

Henrì nodded emphatically as Eleanor laughed.

"We will say you are our niece, and that you go to school in England; you will be my sister's daughter, and alas, your parents died in a tragic accident when you were very young. However, it was your dear father's wish that you study at 'ogwarts as 'e 'ad."

"So you see, little one? Nothing to worry about."

Eleanor nodded.

"I suppose you best Glamour me up – you never know when people might drop in…"

"Mais oui," said Estelle, and pulled out her wand. " 'old still, Eleanor."

The Glamour felt strange as it formed around her: it was warm, and not wholly unpleasant, and some of her features tingled oddly as they changed.

"It will take a few minutes to fade – we will all be able to see you Glamoured until then…"

"Merde," Henrì swore under his breath. "Stella, she could 'ave been our daughter."

"She always 'as been," said Estelle, softly.

Eleanor suspected that she wasn't supposed to hear it, so she got up and peered into the mirror on the inglenook.

It was very strange indeed to be looking at yourself and seeing someone else entirely. She'd kept her stormy blue eyes, she noted with satisfaction, but her hair was much longer, and had shifted from her accustomed pale caramel to deeper maple tones. She was taller, she noted, and slimmer, as Estelle was; her skin was more tanned, as though she'd spent the year roaming the mountains instead of locked in dusty classrooms with her treasured books.

"Estelle, you have made me very beautiful."

"You already were, little treasure."

Eleanor blushed.

"Now," said Estelle, putting her wand away and rubbing her hands together in a business-like manner. "Henrì, I shall need some vegetables from the garden, if you please."

Her husband executed a faux-military salute and marched down the corridor whistling an infantry tune.

"And you, my little one, should take the opportunity to unpack. I shall 'ave you busy in my kitchen again tomorrow," she gave her a warm smile. "Oh, it is good to 'ave you back, Eleanor!"

0o0

Her room was much as she remembered it, albeit a little tidier than normal. Deciding to unpack the lazy way she spent an enjoyable half hour making her possessions whiz about the room to their proper places, before taking out the things that really mattered to her and finding homes for them.

The necklace was the first thing to come off, and it was deposited safely in a wooden box by her bedside where it couldn't get lost or damaged. Next was the book of sonnets, which she placed beside her bed, stroking the cover fondly. She found an old jam jar under her bed, and placed it on the edge of her ample window seat; carefully unwrapping the tea-rose, she put it in the make-shift vase, so that she could look at it when she read. The pile of addresses went into a small box on her writing desk, and she filled the top drawer of the desk with the remains of the sweets from Honeydukes.

Grudgingly, she took off the bracelet that Remus had given her. She knew that if Dumbledore and Alice's Aunty Enid knew about older wizarding marriage traditions then Estelle and Henrì certainly would, and she'd rather not discuss the matter. She traced the pattern of roses with her finger.

Perhaps Remus hadn't thought about the connotations of the gift until after he'd given it…

_Anyway, it wouldn't do for it to be damaged_, she thought, _and that's far more likely here, what with picking beans and mending fences and baking pastries…_

Carefully, she placed it under her pillow where it would be safe.

She rubbed her wrist, absently; she felt naked without it.

Looking around her room with the warm feeling of familiarity creeping over her, she caught her reflection in the mirror. The glamour hadn't quite worn off, though she looked much more herself: her hair seemed to be caught between light brown and blonde, and some of the accustomed fullness had returned to her cheeks. Just for a moment, she had the strange impression that she wasn't looking at herself…

_That's funny_, she thought, _with_ _the way the light is falling on me, and the remnants of the glamour… I look a bit like Remus…_

Struck by the sudden and delightful shock that this could be what a child of theirs might look like, Eleanor stood and watched, mesmerised, as this tantalising image slowly melted into her own face, until she was once again looking solely at herself.

0o0o0o0

Life at the Chalet had never been dull, but it seemed to Eleanor, after the bustle and general insanity of Hogwarts, that the summer days were stretching on forever. It wasn't as though she wasn't enjoying being at home, what with the freedom of the secluded valley and Estelle's cooking and the sound of Henrì chattering away to the hens as he worked in the garden. She just missed her friends.

It was the little things that bothered her, like: every day she'd wake, confused, to a room-mate-less room and have to shake herself before getting on with her day. She'd be happily shelling peas on the veranda with Henrì, both of them arguing with the wireless, and she'd glance at the door to the kitchen, expecting to see Remus, or Frank, or Claire. She'd be down in the village and one of the local boys would wolf whistle, and she'd turn to scold him but stop, nonplussed, as it wasn't Sirius. Nor was it James and Peter who Estelle caught scrumping in the orchard and dragged back down the valley by the scruff of their shirts. The lack of chaos was beginning to bother her.

Still, at least she had the letters.

True to her word, Alice had written the day she'd got back to Mytholmroyd, telling Eleanor that her mum had baked her a cake and that Uncle Algie had fallen in the pond. It had been such a vivid description that Eleanor had shown it to Estelle, who had laughed so hard that great silver tears of mirth had rolled down her shrivelled apple cheeks.

Lily had written soon after, with the news that she and her family were going to Italy for a week and a promise to send a postcard from Rome. She'd also mentioned that her parents were fine with her coming out to the Chalet in August, and Eleanor had practically danced with joy.

She'd had confirmation letters from Peter and Sirius, who had apparently bought his own flat with some money he'd inherited from a similarly disowned uncle; Eleanor imagined that it already looked much like his bed in the dormitories: chaotic. Claire had sent her a postcard from the Lake District where she was holidaying with her father and aunts, and Frank had written asking whether she'd started on her Transfiguration homework yet, since there was a passage he couldn't locate and wondered if she could remember it. She could, and had spent a fruitful half hour hunting for it on the shade of the veranda, Henrì and the chickens shaking their heads at her and tutting.

Remus had written nearly a week into the holiday, thanking her once more for the quills and dodging very carefully around the subject of old marriage traditions. He had ended the letter with his good wishes and how much he missed her; he too had permission to visit the Chalet, and it was a good job, since Eleanor found she missed him even more than she had before his letter had arrived.

Estelle, as promised, was keeping her busy in the kitchen and house, though just as much of her time was spent helping Henrì in the garden and small farm adjacent to the Chalet, and so with answering the constant stream of letters and postcards and the occasional foray into her summer homework it was nearly July before Eleanor noticed that there had been no word from Severus.

She'd written to him about a fortnight before, asking if he could come out to see her, but she'd had no reply. She wrote again.

And again.

Now, every owl brought an increase in the unease that had stolen upon her when she'd first come to the realisation that her friend's precise handwriting was missing.

After a full week of waiting for a response she decided that something must be wrong. Finally, she sent a message that simply read 'Be ready'.

0o0o0o0

It had been a long, hot, puthery day, and she, Estelle and Henrì had spent the majority of it in the gardens, so her housekeepers took to their beds earlier than usual. She could hear them moving around sleepily in the room at the other end of the dark landing as she lay awake, fully clothed, in her bed. The bracelet Remus had given her was back around her wrist, for luck.

Although she was a little tired, she felt none of the happy exhaustion that usually came from a day spent toiling in the fields or orchard. She was too on edge tonight; too excited about what she planned to do, too afraid for her friend.

Patiently, she waited for all the sounds of wakefulness to cease, then counted the minutes until she heard Henrì's telltale snores drift through the house. Silently, she rose and picked up her bag and cloak, left in readiness beside her bedroom door, and opened her door with practiced ease. She slipped down the stairs, careful to avoid the one that creaked, three from the bottom, and collected her boots from the kitchen. She lifted the heavy iron latch on the door and replaced it without any sound, silently thanking her habit of sneaking about after dark for her ability to leave undetected. It wouldn't do to get caught… Estelle and Henrì would only try to stop her, try to do this a more _official_ way…

But this was something that needed to be done quietly, and in _their_ way… the Marauder way.

_Besides_, Eleanor thought, _Severus will prefer this to be as uncomplicated as possible, and if it's just me, alone, he still has a choice. Adult interference will only force a decision, and that wouldn't be right…_

Intent on her mission, she slipped silently away from the slumbering house and into the orchard, leaning briefly against a tree to lace up her boots. Moving quickly, she made her way down the track that led to the village. The sound of Apparation would be a surprise to the villagers too, but they'd simply assume that some drunk had chosen to take the quick way home; any closer to the Chalet and the house would be awake in an instant, ready to defend…

The village tavern appeared to be hosting some kind of small riot with a lot of singing… _probably_ singing. It sounded a lot more like somebody tunefully murdering a yak, but Eleanor imagined that music was the intended if not actual outcome. She bided her time until the occupants gave a particularly loud cheer at the end of a verse about the ravishing of young women (or yaks, she couldn't be entirely sure) and spun on the spot.

Eleanor shook her head to clear it. Apparation wasn't really that much fun. It was certainly quick, and a lot less likely to draw attention than using the local Floo network, but it did come with unpleasant sensation of being turned inside out, something which Eleanor intended to avoid if at all possible.

Thankful that the European Union of Wizards had ruled to keep all transport points open through the night, Eleanor joined the short queue of weary travellers under the magical banner that read 'Angleterre'.

Greeting the tired looking attendant, she handed over her wand as identification and waited, patiently, trying to look as though she did this all the time.

"Bit late for a youngster like you to be travelling," said the guard in French. "But you are of age, so on you go."

"Cousinly distress call, she explained, as he examined the contents of her bag. "Our parents are all holidaying together, so I'm the point of contact."

"Ah, the responsible one, eh?" he laughed, on her nod. "I always left that up to my brother… any idea what you're travelling into?"

Eleanor shook her head.

"Knowing my cousins it could be anything from a bar fight to a big spider," she lied.

"Let's hope for the spider then," he said, and ushered her through.

Eleanor stepped through the Emerald flames into the London Floo Exchange, and made her way to the surface up a great staircase, still teeming with people despite the hour. Drawing away to one side, she glance along the street; in the distance a great bell was tolling the hour, informing the British public that it was midnight now and they probably should all be in bed. Sidling into a quiet and altogether frightening looking blind alley, she Disapparated.

0o0o0o0

Severus hurt.

With the one exception of the time when Bertram Mulciber and Evan Rosier had decided to 'teach him a lesson' for ruining their fun, he was sure that he'd never hurt more in his life.

He knew that his friends had no way of knowing that the owls they sent made his father angry, and really, he had no way of telling them, not having an owl of his own, or money to use a Post Owl…

And in fact, despite the fear and impending dread that each flap of wings brought with it, he found himself longing to hear another, to know that he was not forgotten. He'd managed to intercept a couple of the letters, when his father had been out drinking, or at work, and to his astonishment he now had one letter from each of his friends – two, even, from Alice Roberts, who seemed to be as loquacious a correspondent as she was a gossip. There were even letters from Potter and Black…

He'd hidden them under the loose floorboard in his room, and read them through every night, just to check that he hadn't lost his mind and simply imagined them.

His mother, though thankfully not receiving any of his father's anger, was very carefully Staying Out Of It, and he didn't blame her. He knew that she took the brunt of it the rest of the year, and that she only stayed so that he had somewhere to go back to. They'd never been particularly close, as mothers and sons went, but there had always been a kind of tacit respect between them, quiet as they were, and he was glad of it.

Not that it was a safe somewhere, or even a pleasant one… and since Lily and her family had moved further south he didn't really see anyone other than his parents and the slightly mad and toothless old wizard who lived at the end of the road. But it was _somewhere_.

These last beatings though had had nothing to do with Severus being a wizard and everything to do with his father being suddenly unemployed… and quite a bit to do with the fact that Severus had had enough of his father calling his plain and unassuming mother a 'tart'.

So now he had bruises on his bruises, and was fairly sure that he was going to lose one of his front teeth, and had long since used up the last of the Dittany that Eleanor had liberated from Slughorn in January…

He'd spoken to his mother that morning while his father signed on at the job centre, and she had been exhausted and pale, suggesting that the 're-education' as his father called it, was no longer limited to him. She'd looked like a woman ready to give up as she made her way to the Ministry to work…

And that had been when Eleanor's owl had arrived.

He still had the note in his pocket.

He took it out and read it again in the moonlight.

'Be ready.'

It wasn't much of a letter, but to Severus it had been a lifeline… he'd stared at it in the dingy kitchen for at least half an hour as something painful and liberating happened in his head. Then he'd very carefully folded the scrap of parchment, slipped it in his pocket and walked upstairs to his room to pack. By the time his father had returned and demanded entertainment in the form of beating up his son for the tenth time that week he was ready to go. It didn't matter that his room looked Spartan and empty, since his father never bothered to enter it, preferring to spend most of his time ignoring his existence, and if his mother had noticed, she hadn't let on. He'd write to her the muggle way, once all this was done with; she'd understand.

So he waited, shifting painfully on the bed that would, with any luck, soon no longer be his and straining his ears for any out of place sound.

At around about one in the morning, when he'd been dozing fitfully, someone outside his window swore softly. Slowly, and wincing with every movement, he made his way to the window, suddenly afraid that his father would hear his heartbeat, which was thundering in his ears like timpani drums.

There, at the end of his neglected garden, someone was picking their way through an overgrown bramble patch. He stared down at her, not quite believing the evidence of his own vision.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor cleared the bushes and brushed herself off, pausing to take in her surroundings. She'd arrived on the other side of village and walked the last mile, hoping to conceal her covert activity as fully as possible. She'd noted, with some sadness, that the prim back gardens and pretty cottages that she'd Apparated next to had given way to scrubby, neglected lawns and run-down terraces. She'd been to industrial towns before, with Estelle, and had loved the terraces, which had always been full of friendly, talkative women with flowery aprons; these matriarchs had kept baskets full of flowers on their windowsills and scrubbed and cleaned their front steps until they'd gleamed in the sunshine. Spinners' End was nothing like her memories…

These terraces were dark and forlorn, as if the buildings had given up hope long before their occupants… the paths leading up to the scuffed front doors were dirty and full of weeds, as though the people here had forgotten the meaning of self respect. It made her sad to think of anyone growing up in a place so without hope, and so she told herself that the families inside these dark houses more than made up for their surroundings. Somewhere, she was sure, someone would be sitting in their living room laughing, or rocking a baby to sleep, or smiling at the memory of something…

She'd found Severus's house easily enough, and had immediately decided to go in through the back garden. She was reasonably sure she'd not been seen hiding in the shadows of the street, although a toothless old man at the end of the road had glanced in her direction when he'd put his cat out. He'd been wearing a maroon smoking jacket and a fez, and it had made her smile insanely to know that at least someone in this dingy street had some personality.

His garden was much like the next, from what she could see in the darkness… she looked up at the house. None of the lights were on, but the curtains of the right hand window weren't closed, and she could just about make out a shape in the darkness. The shape moved, raising a wand; just for a moment, light spilled out of the tip of it, and she could see the outline of his face. She grimaced: he didn't look good, even from there.

0o0o0o0

Severus watched the figure beneath him raise a hand in greeting and start towards the house. He frowned.

How the hell was he going to get out of the house? Going downstairs would mean passing his parents' door and that was not a course of action he'd particularly recommend…

Something tapped lightly on the bedroom window, and he jumped. Somehow, Eleanor had managed to climb what appeared to him to be a sheer wall with barely a sound. He let her in, gaping at her. She had a long scratch on her cheek.

"What?" she whispered. "I spend most of my summers up trees…"

She looked him up and down.

"Oh, Severus…"

Her heart broke for him.

He gave a half shrug.

"I've had worse," he rasped, though in this case he was reasonably sure that this wasn't true.

He stiffened – to his very great surprise, he found Eleanor suddenly pressed up against him in an incredibly gentle hug.

"I should have come sooner…"

"You had no way of knowing," he whispered.

"You'll come with me?"

"Where?"

"Somewhere else."

"Yes," he said, and allowed himself to slump against her as she gave him the lightest of squeezes. "Anywhere."

They stood together quietly for a few minutes, and Severus was profoundly grateful that his friend was ignoring the tears that were soaking into her shoulder.

Eventually, she pulled away from him and picked up his travelling cloak, sweeping it around him and fastening it at his neck.

A tiny sound made them turn and look at the door to his room; they jumped.

How long his mother had been standing there, Eleanor had no idea, and the older witch's face gave nothing away.

Silently, she beckoned to her son, and handed him a package of some kind. Clearly, Mrs Snape knew precisely what was going on, and if she didn't necessarily approve, she certainly accepted it. She held him to her briefly, before he turned away, no longer able to keep the emotion from his face.

Eleanor, feeling very much the intruder, had been determinedly looking the other way, out of the window, and so when she felt Mrs Snape tap her arm she started.

The older witch pressed her hand briefly and nodded, wordlessly conveying her gratitude, and retreated back into the house, letting the door close silently behind her.

Eleanor looked back up at Severus, who scrubbed at his face with his sleeve.

"How are we going to do this?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper.

Eleanor peered out into the dark garden.

"Carefully," she said. "Can you get the trunk out of the window?"

"I- I think so," he said, and hefted it up to the opening.

Eleanor sent a quick muffling charm at the door, though she suspected she was merely reinforcing Mrs Snape's own charms, before aiming her wand at the trunk.

"_Wingardium leviosa_," she hissed, and lowered it gently to the ground.

"You next… can you climb down?"

Severus glanced down at the wall below him.

"No."

"Right…"

She levitated him out of the window and set him down on the grass outside as gently as she could; if the situation had been different, she would have laughed at his expression: part fear, part indignation, and part simple amusement. Eleanor lowered herself from the windowsill and let herself drop to the ground, which wasn't far.

He was staring at her.

"What?"

"Do you do this often?"

"Oh, shut up…" she glanced at the package in his hands. "Do you want to put that in your trunk?"

"I don't think it will fit…" he said, staring down at it.

"I have a bag…"

He nodded and handed the bundle over; the paper in which it was wrapped crackled slightly in the darkness.

"Ready?"

"Yes…"

Severus stared silently up at the dark house for a few moments before following his friend into the bushes.

0o0o0o0

Their journey had been relatively uneventful, particularly given the state that Severus was in, until they reached the Calais Floo Terminal. The wizard on the other side of the fireplace had been fast asleep, and after debating for a few minutes whether to wake him, they'd simply grabbed a handful of powder each and made the jump. The attendant who had seen to Eleanor earlier in the night was not, however, asleep, and he swore when he saw them.

"Merde! Not a big spider then?"

"Not as such – he was mugged."

"Merde!" he said again. "You alright?"

Severus frowned at him.

"Sorry monsieur, he doesn't speak much French," she turned to Severus. "He asked if you were ok."

"Never better."

The attendant laughed; plainly, he understood English.

"At least he has his sense of humour."

"Yes… Er, the man at the other terminus was asleep…"

"Oh was he now? I'll be waking _him_ up sharpish. Wands please."

Eleanor handed over her wand and nudged Severus to do the same.

"Well, I hope the rest of your summer is more enjoyable," he said, handing them back.

"Merci, Monsieur," said Eleanor as they turned away.

"Are you ok to Apparate again?" she asked. Under his bruises, Severus was much paler than usual and there was nothing like the experience of turning inside out to sap your energy.

"Should be… how much of a walk is it when we get there?"

"Half an hour, maybe more if we go slow."

"Where do you live, Wren? Half way up a mountain?"

"Yes."

"Oh…"

"Come on…"

There was a great crack as Eleanor turned on the spot, one hand firmly on Severus's arm.

"Urgh," he said, and slumped to his knees.

"Fuck," said Eleanor.

The earlier mugginess hadn't diminished while she'd been away, and they'd Apparated right into the middle of an almighty thunderstorm.

_At least we won't have to worry about anyone hearing us_, she thought, as she set a waterproof charm on her bag and Severus's trunk. They'd been there less than a minute and they were already soaked to the skin.

"Here," she shouted, over the weather, and hauled him to his feet. She grabbed the trunk in her free hand and started to help him up the trail.

They struggled up the track, fighting to keep their footing along a surface that was fast becoming slick with mud; either side of them a building torrent splashed down the sides of a path, taking with it soil and grit and pebbles. Above them, lightening forked across the pitch black sky, and the answering boom of thunder sounded to Severus like a series of almighty explosions; for a moment he was afraid that the whole mountain would come apart beneath them.

He tried to shake some of the water out of his eyes and looked over at Eleanor: apart from being thoroughly drenched, she didn't seem to be even slightly worried about the storm, and he stopped himself from asking whether the world was, in fact, ending.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Eleanor guided him off the track and along a thankfully flatter trail leading into what was probably a lush and verdant valley when it wasn't being lashed into meteorological submission.

A dark building in the distance appeared to be their destination, and given Eleanor's reaction he established that the inviting yellow light spilling out into the storm meant that someone unexpected was waiting for them.

Eleanor stopped as she saw someone on the path ahead; it was Henrì, wrapped in a thick cloak and holding up a lantern, which hissed with every splash of rain that hit it. His shout was lost in the wind, but he hurried forward to support Severus and together they walked the last few hundred feet to the Chalet.

The lack of noise was the first thing that struck Severus about the chalet, as an older witch shut the door behind him; the wizard, whom he assumed was Eleanor's housekeeper, led him to a chair into which he sank, gratefully. The older couple were arguing with Eleanor now, though the sound seemed to be coming from very far away…

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried we were, cherie?"

"But tatie-"

"When the storm came, and we went to check your shutters, and you and your things were gone?"

It was strange, he thought, that sound could echo so much in such a cosy space…

"But Severus neede-"

"What we imagined had happened to you out there – Circe knows where – in this storm?"

"I had to-"

"But you're safe now," said the older witch, pulling her startled charge into a hug. "And your friend…"

Severus had _meant_ to apologise to Eleanor for getting her into trouble, but all he succeeded in doing was falling out of the sturdy kitchen chair. He landed on the floor with a thump.

Strong arms hefted him back into the seat, and Eleanor's worried face came into view.

" 'M sry," he managed.

Somewhere above him, someone was giving orders… he saw the older witch hurry off to the stairs while the wizard tried to struggle out of his wet-weather gear, with limited success.

He could feel hands on his shoulders… they were quite small and gentle… he glanced up the arm that they were attached to and saw Eleanor trying to undo the clasp on his cloak. She was sticking her tongue out very slightly in concentration, and for some reason Severus found this really funny.

"Just so you know," Eleanor said, finally undoing the clasp and pulling the dripping cloak away. "Laughing like a crazy person is not doing you any favours…"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wizard pulling his trunk up the stairs; he tried to protest.

"Shh," Eleanor said, undoing her own cloak and hanging them both over the chairs nearest to the stove.

He looked blearily up at her and she shook her head.

"Come on, upstairs."

"Bbt," he said, and she ignored him, putting his arm about her shoulder and dragging him to his feet.

"Estelle's making up a bed for you – stairs now, that's right – and Henrì's running a bath, he'll help you."

" 'M nt grby," he mumbled.

"Perhaps not, but a bath will help… you're freezing – and it won't do the rest any harm…"

They reached the door to a room that Severus assumed contained a bath, since there was a considerable amount of steam issuing from within. The wizard, presumably Henrì, helped him out of his clothes and into the bath. Part of Severus wanted to argue, but another part told him to be quiet, since the hot water felt amazing. He was vaguely aware that Eleanor had been bundled off by Estelle – she'd apparently been waiting by the door with some kind of tincture that Henrì poured into the bath – presumably to get into some drier clothes.

The water, when he looked down at it, was a strange lavender colour now, and it tingled pleasantly whenever he moved…

_Strange_, he thought, _my bruises don't hurt as much…_

0o0o0o0

By the time Eleanor was dry and trying to convince Estelle that really, she was _fine_, Severus felt well enough to dress himself and stumble down to the kitchen, if only to figure out what the hell they'd put in the bath, and whether he could have the recipe.

"Ah, Severus, is it?" asked Estelle. "You are feeling better?"

"Much, thank you…" he looked at Eleanor. "I didn't want to get you into trouble, I'm sorry…"

"I'm not, not really."

"Generally if Eleanor does something foolish it is for a good reason," said Henrì, who was filling his pipe with an air of deep concentration.

"It wasn't _that_ foolish," said Estelle. "You drink cocoa, Severus?"

"Er, yes… thank you…" he said, uncertainly, as the older witch passed him a steaming tankard of it.

"You will write to your mother tomorrow?" she asked Eleanor.

"First thing."

"Bon. I think it's time we all went to bed…"

"Forgive me," said Severus. "I don't want to be any trouble – I'll go out tomorrow, Eleanor said something about a village – and see if there's anywhere to stay."

There was a brief silence in the kitchen, the only sounds being the howl of the wind outside and the tiny scraping noises made by Henrì and his pipe.

"You will stay 'ere," said the older wizard, gently. "Eleanor would not 'ave brought you 'ere unless you needed 'er to. There is a spare room since our nephew left, and none of us want you to be wandering a strange country alone."

"I – I don't want to impose," said Severus, struggling to keep the lump from his throat. Could these people really want him here?

"Nonsense," said Estelle. "It 'as always struck me as lonely for Eleanor all the way out 'ere, and four mouths are just as easy to feed as three."

"I can always use another pair of 'ands around the farm," added Henrì.

Eleanor sat down beside him.

"You have a home here, if you want it," she said, softly, and laid her hand on his.

He nodded, suddenly afraid that his voice might reveal the emotional wreck her was fast becoming on the inside.

"Well then," said Estelle. "Now that is settled, I would say it is time we were all in bed." She looked at the clock. "It 'as been a while since I 'ave seen three in the morning, I 'ave to say… cherie, will you show Severus to 'is room, s'il te plait?"

0o0o0o0

"Well, this is you," said Eleanor, waving at the comfortable looking room. "I'm just over there," she continued, and pointed at the door at the end of the hall. "If you need anything."

She handed him the candle.

"Night then…"

"Eleanor, wait – I – thank you."

"No worries."

"No, really, I don't know what I'd have done if –"

But Eleanor shrugged.

"We're friends, that's what we do. You look out for me, I look out for you. Sleep well," she said, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek.

He let the door close behind him and looked around his new room, from the shuttered windows keeping out the storm, to the half-filled bookcases that seemed to invite him to add his own tomes, and to the large, comfortable looking bed.

Here, he rather thought he _would_ sleep well.


	21. Third Int', The Marauders 'Do' the Alps

"Pass the bread?" Severus asked, as he cut himself another wedge of cheese. There was a small thump as the bread, wrapped in a piece of white muslin, hit the grass beside him. "Thanks."

He pulled a lump of bread away from the loaf and wrapped it up again; he turned a page in the book he was reading: Estelle had leant it to him after he'd asked her about the stuff they'd put in his bath, and he was thoroughly engrossed. He spent nearly five full minutes with the makeshift cheese sandwich halfway to his mouth before Eleanor asked him for the grapes, which he passed up to her absently.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and since they'd all but finished their homework, and Henrì and Estelle had, for the moment, run out of things that needed doing about the place, they'd decided that an outdoor picnic would be in order. They'd taken their books, and were currently engaged in that vague and faintly telepathic communication that friends-who-read-together enjoy. Severus was lounging in the long grass, his back against an apple tree; Eleanor had insisted that being _in_ the tree was far more comfortable, and was sprawled on her stomach along a large branch.

Occasionally, one or the other of them would become peckish and demand sustenance from wherever the other had left it, and periodically they'd slip into a peaceful doze. It was, all in all, a very relaxing way to spend a sunny afternoon. The Marauders-and-associated-makers-of-mischief were due to arrive that evening, and as much as they were looking forward to seeing their friends, they were both enjoying their last few hours of comparative peace.

Severus had settled in well at the Chalet and, after a week or two of diminishing awkwardness seemed to feel as at home here as he did at Hogwarts. He spent a lot of his time with Henrì, fixing fences and liming trees and working in the vegetable garden. Eleanor was willing to bet that this was the longest stretch of time that he had ever spent out of doors, and his usually pale complexion was beginning to show signs of colour; he was even developing something of a tan.

His mood had improved, too – largely, she suspected, due to Estelle's own peculiar brand of stubbornness; he'd even begun to laugh and joke again, without that characteristic glance behind him to check he wasn't being observed or upsetting anyone. It hurt a little that the freedom she'd enjoyed since birth was something he'd had to learn over the summer term, and then relearn in the Chalet.

Eleanor's mother had visited only a few days after his arrival, and assured him categorically that he could stay as long as he liked, that he would both be provided for and supported in any future endeavour, and if he refused any part of it then she would be greatly offended. She had also reminded him that she was in his debt for rescuing Eleanor.

Eleanor had had to chew the inside of her lips to keep from laughing at his expression; he looked as though he wasn't sure what to do – though he did stop arguing after a while. Sometimes, when it came to mothers, it was best just to give up and go with it, especially when they felt that they were indebted.

Severus's mother had written a week later, simply providing him with her new address and her best wishes, and quietly confirming Eleanor's belief that everyone dealt with things in their own way.

The package she'd sent with her son had turned out to contain a letter (which Eleanor suspected he was still carrying around with him) that Severus had indicated was much more emotional than he was accustomed too. Eleanor had said something about things taking a long time to deal with and he'd nodded, thoughtfully, and tucked the parchment back into his pocket. There were also a bundle of old photographs of Severus as a small child with his mother and a variety of older relatives; his father had been conspicuously absent. One of the photographs, taken much more recently, and probably not by Tobias Snape, was of Severus in his school robes, his mother standing proudly beside him. He'd propped that one up at his bedside until a frame had mysteriously appeared; Eleanor caught Estelle watching him slot it into place with an air of exaggerated nonchalance and had given her an amused smile.

Their friends had reacted to Severus's change of address with unusual tact, some of them perhaps remembering how sensitive Sirius had been the summer before, and the industrious flapping of feathers at breakfast was now a daily occurrence. Eleanor had noted, with some amusement, that one of the owls arrived almost every other day – sometimes returning at odd hours compared to the rest. The arrival of this particular bird usually resulted in Severus's scurrying off to some secluded corner or other to read the letter through and reply; it was all that Eleanor could do not to burst out laughing at his expression when she'd mentioned it. He'd actually blushed.

"So, who is it?" she asked as he helped her dry the dishes.

"Who's who?"

"The person with the large snowy owl."

"I don't know who you –" he broke off, correctly interpreting her look of incredulity. "No one."

"Has to be an interesting 'no one' to make you blush…"

"I'm not blushing – I'm just warm, that's all."

"You are too. Tonton Henrì – isn't he blushing?"

"He's blushing," the old wizard agreed, not even looking up from his book.

"I'm not!"

"You two leave him alone," Estelle admonished. "If Severus has a paramour then we should let him communicate with them in private."

Eleanor giggled.

"I do _not_ have a paramour," he argued, though he was now roughly the colour of the tomatoes in Henrì's vegetable patch. "And I'm _not_ blushing."

"Whatever you say, cherie. Would you two check the gate is locked? We don't want the pigs to escape again…" said Estelle, bustling the pair of them out of the kitchen.

They rather had to agree. The pigs _had_ escaped a few nights previously and the four of them had spent a very long and weary few hours trying to convince the animals that, contrary to their newly formed opinions, they were _not_ in fact mountain goats.

Eleanor could hear him grumbling under his breath as they walked down the path.

"You're still blushing…"

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am _not_!"

"Yes you are! You're practically iridescent."

Severus muttered something under his breath as he pulled the gate to.

"What was that?"

"I said 'this must be what having an annoying baby sister is like'."

"I'm older than you, you know."

"You don't act it."

"Look," she said, leaning on the now-fastened gate. "There's no need to get huffy about it. If there's someone you fancy then that's great – and they write to you often enough to suggest that they like you too. I'm just teasing you, that's all."

Severus joined her, glaring off into the mountains; he leaned on his elbow.

"Well I wish you wouldn't."

"But it's funny," she said, not even trying to hide her impish grin.

He gave her a Look.

For a few minutes, peace reigned over the valley as they watched the stars. It was pleasantly cool out, after the heat of the day, and a soft breeze was rustling the trees. Severus began to relax… Then:

"So who is it?"

"_Eleanor_!"

"_Severus_!"

He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and scowled at her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come _on_! Enquiring minds want to know!"

"No, _you_ want to know."

"Well, _yes_… that was sort of why I was asking."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"With schnozzberries?"

"N- schnozzberries?"

He looked at her, perplexed.

"They're a kind of fruit… from a muggle children's book…"

"Oh…"

"… how about with cherries?"

"That's not going to work."

Eleanor sighed.

"Just give it a rest, Eleanor. Unless you'd like me to ask _you_ about a certain young wizard when we get back inside..?"

"No… No, I wouldn't really…" she said, chastened.

"That's what I thought."

"Sorry."

"Gryffindors always are," he said, and gave her a friendly nudge with his arm.

"Not always."

He snorted.

"But…"

"_No_."

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Yeah right."

"Really – I was just going to say, if you ever _do _want to talk about it – I'm here. Or there… or _somewhere_, at any rate."

"Oh," he said, somewhat nonplussed. "Thank you."

They lapsed into another companionable silence.

"How…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, go on," Eleanor urged, turning to lean back on the gate.

The starlight had given her friend a sort of ethereal glow, but even so Severus looked shifty.

"How… how did you know he liked you?"

Eleanor paused.

"You mean the certain-young-wizard-who-shall-remain-nameless?"

"Mmm," he grunted, uncomfortably.

"Well… the snogging was a bit of a clue."

Severus started.

"And here was I thinking you two had barely even talked to one another – when was this?"

"Er," she cringed, suddenly very embarrassed. "October…"

Severus swore.

"You mean to tell me that two of Gryffindor's finest have been sneaking around – groping one another – behind everyone's backs – since _October_?"

"We weren't sneaking around – not at first! And we didn't talk about _anything_ until the Gala – and then we agreed to stay apart –"

"And the groping?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Er…" said Eleanor, looking trapped. "Well… there was a _bit_ of groping in January, but we were trying not to... it sort of took us by surprise… and then we sort of made our minds up to… er… take opportunities as they came, around May…"

Severus shook his head.

"How very Slytherin of you."

Eleanor decided not to dignify that with an answer.

"So, er – any snogging?"

Even in the dark she could tell that he was blushing.

"Not as yet."

"Ok… um – do you catch her watching you sometimes?"

Severus frowned briefly at this, but nodded.

"Sometimes."

"Does she take a lot of opportunities to talk with you – or sit next to you – or walk with you?"

"Quite a lot…"

"And she writes to you, what? Every other day?"

Another nod.

"Well it _sounds_ like she likes you," she said, quietly. "Do you like her?"

"Very much…"

Eleanor smiled.

"Good," she said. "Then I'd say you're on the right track."

Severus nodded again, and they turned to the Chalet, where Estelle was calling them in. Rolling their eyes they started back up towards the house.

"Eleanor?"

"Yes?"

"It's not a 'she'…"

0o0o0o0

It was the parents that didn't seem to quite know how to react, once they'd extracted from their children what all this sudden feverish letter writing was about. A couple of them had offered assistance of one kind or another, along with the fervent hope that he wouldn't be offended. Oddly enough, Severus seemed to be taking each offer of help in his stride, though he had refused all but Eleanor's mother and housekeepers (which was, in any case, all but impossible to refuse). It was as if he was perpetually astonished that anyone would want to help him.

Remus's mother had forgone the intangible offers of help and simply sent him an enormous chocolate cake, which she had felt would help. Severus had laughed himself to tears when it had arrived, and quickly written back to Remus (who, given the shakiness of his handwriting was similarly nonplussed) to ask him to convey his deepest gratitude to the witch who, with a little bit of kindness and a lot of flour, had made his year. Days later, when the four of them had finally finished it, he'd still been wandering around the house and gardens with a big grin plastered across his face, and had even started whistling when he thought no one was around.

He'd been a bit embarrassed about that, when he'd been startled by Henrì and Eleanor in the raspberry patch, but they'd simply shrugged and joined in with gusto, if not necessarily accuracy.

All in all, he was a very different young man from the bedraggled wreck who had been forced into the bath a month or so previously. Still, today he seemed almost nervous; Eleanor wondered whether it was because of the impending arrival of eight rowdy teenagers. It was a lot easier to get along with someone on parchment than it was in close quarters.

They'd spent the day preparing the house for the onslaught, unpacking quilts and blankets that Eleanor either remembered fondly from her infancy or had never known existed, and making up makeshift beds in their rooms. Henrì had announced that he and Estelle would be visiting Antoine and his family in the last two weeks of the holiday, which Eleanor took as a tacit acknowledgement that she and her friends were of age and could be trusted. She was grateful, however, that they'd be back in time to see them all safely off to Platform 9 ¾; she didn't much fancy the idea of shepherding her mischievous friends across the continent.

She was also grateful that Estelle had already requested a list of provisions for their absence, which thankfully left little room for potential miscalculations on her part. In fact, it seemed as if her housekeeper intended to feed the figurative five hundred.

Lily was the first to arrive. She had hurtled out of the fireplace and engulfed an alarmed Severus in a tight hug. She was closely followed by her mother, who was dragging her trunk; Mrs Evans seemed to be delighted by every bit of magic that she saw. She was particularly impressed by the kettle, which floated over from the stove and poured hot water into the teapot with no outside influence.

"It's so kind of you to have Lily over," she was saying as she left. "I'm so glad that she has such good friends – it's such a strange world to me and Charles…"

"_Mum_," said Lily, her face momentarily matching the shade of her hair.

"Oh, 'ush," said Estelle. "It is our job to worry about you, is that not right Madame Evans?"

"Absolutely, it's very difficult not to."

Eleanor had taken the opportunity to help Lily with her trunk and by the time the two of them had got back downstairs the kitchen was full of teenagers and their parents, many of whom were getting on famously. Severus was already leading James and Sirius up to his room with their stuff – James making a brief detour to kiss Lily on the cheek out of the sight of their parents – and Alice and Claire were deep in conversation with Estelle and Lily's mum. Henri had volunteered to show the Potters his vegetable patch, since James's mum was interested in the hybrid variety of snow pea he was growing.

The only person not talking to anyone was Claire's dad, who looked thoroughly lost and out of place.

"Hello Mr Pollard," said Eleanor, making her way over to him. "How was the journey? Was it your first time using the Floo network?"

"Er – yes, it was a bit odd…" he looked her and Lily over. "I'm guessing you're Lily – it's the hair," he added, on her look of confusion. "And Eleanor?"

Lily laughed and they shook hands.

"I've never really understood any of this magic stuff, but Claire seems really happy at Hogwarts, so that's good enough for me."

"Yes, it can be a bit of a shock to the system," said Lily, understandingly. "I'm muggleborn myself, and I know it was a bit of a leap of faith for my parents – it was a bit frightening for me the first time I got on the train. I mean, I was going into an entirely different world in some respects."

"That's just it," said Mr Pollard. "It's a world I know nothing about – as a parent it's a bit unnerving knowing that there are dangers your little girl is facing that you have no idea exist… even when she's not so little anymore. I'm glad she has you girls to look out for her," he smiled. "Although, since some things are the same in every world…" he said, and leant in conspiratorially. "This Peter fellow I've been hearing all about, is he alright?"

Lily grinned as Eleanor stifled a giggle.

"Yes, sir, he's really sweet – and he's very fond of Claire."

"Good. Er – you'll keep an eye on him?"

"We keep an eye on all the boys sir," said Eleanor, in all seriousness. "Someone has to."

The older man chuckled and looked up as the fireplace lit up once more, this time to admit Frank and Peter and their associated family members.

"The one on the right," hissed Eleanor, in an undertone, as they watched both boys excitedly greet their friends and girlfriends, awkwardly aware that everyone's parents were present.

James, who was as unabashed as usual, wrapped his arms around Lily from behind and she simply laughed, forgetting for a moment that her mother was in the room. Mrs Evans merely raised an eyebrow and smiled; her expression clearly indicated both her approval and her intention to never let her daughter live this down.

Eleanor and Severus shepherded the new arrivals upstairs with their belongings, everyone chattering happily about their holidays and how much fun they'd been having. Both of them sniggered quietly as the reunited couples took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss, though Eleanor hid it better.

Distantly, she heard the whoosh of flames from the kitchen and practically spun around; Alice and Claire were giving her knowing looks.

"Oh, shut up," she said, blushing furiously.

0o0o0o0

Once their parental units had ruffled their hair, hugged them, kissed them and generally embarrassed them to death in their farewells for the new term, Estelle and Henrì herded the lot of them outside, where Severus and Eleanor gave them a lengthy tour of the valley, from the secluded lake at its centre and the wild flower meadows spreading around in all directions, to the orchard and gardens and the wooded slopes enclosing Eleanor's little piece of paradise.

To Eleanor, it was oddly like coming home for a second time, finally being surrounded by her friends once more.

After much happy wandering, they ended up in the orchard, taking full advantage of the shade afforded by the trees and collapsing into the long grass in the heat – still pervasive even into the evening.

"What kind of tree is this?" asked Claire, from Peter's lap. She was gazing up into the branches above her with a contented smile on her face.

"Walnut," said Eleanor. "There are apples, too, and apricots and pears. Oh, and a hazelnut, but no one can remember how it got there."

She shifted, comfortably. As part of the partner-less contingent of the group, she was lying on her side in a veritable tangle of limbs that had developed following a brief scuffle – Sirius had decided that the ground Severus was occupying was by far the comfiest and had cheerfully attempted to oust him. The result of the friendly wrestling match meant that Remus and Eleanor (who had been caught up in the general flailing) were in a general pile of bodies with Sirius and Severus. Hot as it was, none of them could now be bothered to move, and had settled for periodically dislodging one another to vague and lethargic protests.

Eleanor, who was more or less entirely leaning on Remus, wasn't complaining, particularly as they hadn't had a moment to themselves to say 'hello' properly. It was good to discover a social situation where Remus's arm draping lazily around her waist wasn't a problem.

Even if Severus did keep smirking at her.

"It's pretty," said Claire. "I like the way the light comes through the leaves…"

"You can give us a hand harvesting them if you like – they're about ready. I suspect that Estelle and Henrì had this in mind when they agreed to have you all over."

The collected wizardry laughed.

"No really," put in Severus. "Since I've been here I must have learned more about agriculture than I realised existed."

"You love it," said Eleanor, as the others chuckled.

"The weird thing is that I kind of do…"

"I was going to say," said Frank, indistinctly. "You're looking quite tanned."

"Residential hazard," said Severus, with a smile. "Once we got all our homework done there wasn't much else to do but be outside."

"It's been really sunny," Eleanor agreed.

"You're lucky," said Sirius, from somewhere underneath Remus. "It was so rainy in London in July that even _I_ got my homework done."

Remus snorted.

"That was about three days, Sirius."

"Yeah, and? I was bored. You lot were all either on holiday or not writing back – except these two," he continued, prodding Severus and Eleanor in the side.

"Ow," said Eleanor, unconvincingly.

"Apart from the night I arrived, it's been blisteringly hot here," said Severus, wriggling out of his mischievous friend's reach.

"Well it's lovely here," said Lily, firmly, snuggling back into James's arms.

0o0o0o0

"You were saying?" asked James the next day, as they ran back up the track from the village. Once again, the heavens had opened in spectacular style, and they were already soaked through.

"Shut up," Lily snapped, trying not to slip on the rocky slope.

"How much further?" shouted Alice, over the wind.

"Not far!" Eleanor shouted back, and led them through the concealed pass into the valley below. The ten of them pelted down the sloped path towards the Chalet, sending up tiny splatters of mud and small stones as they went.

Eleanor charmed the door open ahead of them and let her friends get into the kitchen first; the rain – although thoroughly saturating – was pleasantly warm, and she wasn't particularly bothered about getting wet.

There was a mad dash for towels as people scattered to the upper quarters to change out of their soaking clothes; Eleanor sidled into the kitchen and cast a quick cleaning spell at the floor and the ramshackle pile of shoes that had accumulated by the door.

Tapping the kettle as she passed, she made her way to her room, where the girls were in every imaginable stage of undress.

"That came on fast," remarked Claire, who was trying to get her t-shirt to stop clinging to her body.

"They do, a bit," said Eleanor, as she struggled out of her shirt. "Though sometimes you can hear them coming for days before they hit – those are my favourite," she continued, pulling off her shorts and socks. "They make for spectacular viewing."

"Aren't you afraid of the lightening up here?" asked Alice, rummaging in her trunk for a dry blouse.

"No – the valley's enchanted to avoid it," replied Eleanor, extracting a fresh pair of jeans from the wardrobe.

Lily, who had already left the room once, came back in at some speed and leaned against the closed door, wide eyed.

"What?" asked Claire, comically paused part way through putting dry socks on. She teetered slightly.

"The boys have decided not to put their shirts back on," she said.

Her friends looked at her.

"Well, it is a bit warm…" said Eleanor, as Claire fell over with a yelp.

"Have you ever seen Sirius Black _without his shirt on_?" asked Lily, still a little out of sorts.

"No, wh-"

"Oh," said Alice. "Oh dear…"

"What?" asked Claire, from the floor.

"It's – he's –" Lily took a deep breath. "Ok, so up until recently he's been a monumental arse, and none of us really fancy him – particularly not in comparison to our lovely young men…"

"But he's _hot_," said Alice. "It's a bit… distracting. Difficult to take your eyes off him."

Claire and Eleanor shared a look; Alice and Lily weren't the easiest girls to distract.

"I think we'll be alright," said Eleanor, slowly.

"You think you can walk out there and actually take your eyes off Sirius's chest?" asked Lily, incredulously.

"Really, Lily, he's not _that_ cute. Besides, I'd think we'd be rather occupied by the lack of clothing on the _other_ boys…"

Lily paused.

"Hmm…" she said. "You may have a point there…"

"Frank is quite the dish…" said Alice, cheeks dimpling prettily.

"You've seen him shirtless?" asked Lily, and the other girl blushed.

"Yes… a couple of times…"

Claire grinned at Eleanor.

"So, I'm assuming you've not seen James straight after a Quidditch match then?"

"Well, no…" said Lily, looking flustered. "It just hasn't come up… why are you giggling?" she demanded, as all three of her friends broke into peals of laughter.

"S-sorry Lily," Claire managed.

"And you've seen Peter's chest, I suppose?"

"Lots of times – the choir has to change mid-show sometimes," she grinned. "He can be quite distracting too."

"I've even seen Severus's chest," teased Eleanor, in amusement. "Though as we now live together that's not _that_ surprising."

Lily stuck her tongue out at her.

"Ellie," began Alice, apparently lost in thought. "I'm guessing you've seen Remus…"

"Yes…" it was Eleanor's turn to blush.

_Honestly_, she thought. _It's not as if we've seen them completely naked_.

"Do his scars – I mean, does he have a lot… on his body…?"

"Yes," she replied, soberly. None of them were giggling now.

"It – it must hurt _so_ much…" said Claire, quietly.

"Like nothing we can imagine," agreed Lily.

"He said it was like being torn apart and put back together again," said Eleanor quietly. "And that's without taking into account the fact that the werewolf tries to attack itself in lieu of human prey…"

"I'd wondered about those claw marks on his arms…" said Claire.

"He's probably not very comfortable about them," said Alice.

"He isn't," said Eleanor, sadly. "But they're a part of him – they're not ugly, as such – not like you'd imagine them to be. It's strange… I know the ones on his face are kind of roguish and almost add to his charm, but the ones on his chest and stomach… they're almost beautiful… I mean weirdly so…"

A loud bang on the door made them jump as they considered this revelation.

"Are you alright in there?" asked Peter's voice. "Only the kettle's chasing Frank around the kitchen…"

"Sorry Peter, still half naked – tell him to get the cups out of the cupboard – the one by the window," called Eleanor, resuming her dressing.

Frank was quite out of breath by the time they entered the kitchen, and was shooting the kettle dark looks; it hissed at him.

"Alright?" asked Eleanor, towelling her hair. True to Lily's assertion, the boys had all opted to remain shirtless, though Remus was crossing and uncrossing his arms uncomfortably.

"Alright," said James, and Eleanor immediately suspected that Lily would have no problem ignoring Sirius. "Once we convinced the kettle that Frank didn't need any hot water." Another jet of steam issued from the aforementioned receptacle.

"Is that thing sentient?" asked Sirius, eyeing it warily. Eleanor risked a glance in his direction. Lily had been right – years of Quidditch training had left their mark on both him and James, giving them both chiselled physiques, but Sirius somehow had the edge.

_It must be the way he carries himself_, she thought, and mentally shook herself.

"It is compared to you," she replied, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Cor!" said Peter, staring out of the window. "Would you look at _that_."

The sky above the valley was a deep, bruised purple with rain and power, and the clouds were swirling and boiling uneasily.

"There was a lightening bolt – it must have had at least three forks!"

"Only you could get excited about the weather," said Sirius, but he joined him at the window anyway.

A great clap of thunder uncurled overhead, and for a moment they froze as palpable waves of sound washed over them.

"Bloody hell," said Sirius, impressed.

"I think it's a night for dinner on the veranda," said Eleanor, and her friends stared at her as if she'd suggested they should have a mass orgy. "It's charmed to stay warm and dry," she explained. "If we take our blankets and stuff out we can sit back and watch the storm."

"My, my," said Sirius, standing slightly too close for comfort. "Dinner and a show, Ellie? We might think you were trying to romance us."

"Come on Pads," said Remus, taking a firm hold of his friend's arm. "Give me a hand with the blankets."

"We'll throw dinner together," said Alice, as Lily and Claire departed to fetch the blankets from the Eleanor's room.

"I'm beginning to see what you mean about 'complicated'," whispered Severus, as he helped reach down the plates.

"You've no idea," murmured Eleanor.

Lifting a basket of food, she made her way outside, passing Peter and James, who seemed to be engaged in a serious and covert conversation.

It was rather a strange picnic, she reflected, as they rolled out blankets and cushions, and curled up or leant against the kitchen walls, and distributed plates, food and cutlery.

"Where's Frank?" asked Alice, as she made herself comfortable on the swing seat at the end of the veranda.

"Present," he called, ducking out of the kitchen with his chess set tucked under his arm. "Care to be crushed, Severus?"

"Don't mind if I do," he replied, settling down beside the swing seat. "Though we'll see about who's doing the crushing."

Another rumble of thunder cascaded across the valley as Remus sat down beside Eleanor, pointedly putting himself between her and Sirius, who looked a little put out.

"Exploding snap, Wormy? Claire?" Sirius asked, turning away slightly.

"No setting fire to my house," said Eleanor, picking up her book of sonnets and _accidentally_ grazing her fingers against Remus's bare stomach. She felt him tense.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"I'm not complaining," he replied, tearing a chunk of break from the loaf and passing it on. Under the pretence of reaching for the plate of meat that was on Eleanor's other side, he whispered: "I missed you."

Eleanor shivered and glanced at the others, who were all variously engrossed in games, or the storm, or the books they'd brought outside.

"I missed you too," she said, and rested her hand lightly on his arm for a moment. The contact was only brief, but it was enough to make Remus's eyes close peacefully for a few seconds.

He edged closer to her, pretending to reach for the fruit this time and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?" he whispered, softly.

"As strange as the thing I know not… You have stayed me in a happy hour. I was about to protest I loved you…"

He smiled at her as another great fork of lightening tore across the heavens, drawing 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the assembled teenagers.

In the darkness, as they abandoned their leisure pursuits and turned their full attention to the rhapsody of colours and atmosphere racing across the skies, he took her hand.

They stayed like that for some time, until Sirius, who had been nibbling away at his dinner, absently unwrapped a square of the rich, creamy local chocolate that they'd bought in the village that afternoon and popped it, unwary, into his mouth.

He made a guttural sound of the deepest pleasure.

Eighteen eyes turned to stare at him, bewildered; his eyes were closed tight shut and he appeared to have frozen in place.

"Sirius?" asked Lily, tentatively.

With deliberate care, he swallowed.

"Sweet Merlin!" he said, opening his eyes dazedly. "I think that chocolate was having sex with my tongue!"

"Graphic, Padfoot," said James, as the others variously shook their heads or snorted into their hands.

"Seriously, you _have_ to try this!"

There was a general rummaging around for candy.

"Is it really that good?" asked Remus, looking dubious.

"Absolutely," replied Eleanor. "Even for a connoisseur like yourself."

"Oh well, if that's the case –" he began, reaching for a square, but Eleanor caught his hand.

"Allow me," she said with that slow smile that drove him wild, and he raised an eyebrow.

Glancing at the others, she lifted the chocolate to his mouth.

"Here," she said, and he took the piece of chocolate – pausing for a microsecond to gently nibble at her fingers. Then the chocolate began to melt on his tongue.

He grabbed at the blanket beneath him.

"_Fugg_," he said, as the delicious chocolaty liquid swirled around his mouth.

Eleanor smiled and leaned back, gently resting her head against his shoulder.

"I told you so," she said.


	22. Fourth Interlude, Quicksilver

It had been a pleasant week, spending time inside one another's lives again, bickering and teasing and generally doing the things that cement people together. There were days spent basking in the summer sunshine, reading, playing chess, eating chocolate…

Days spent bringing in baskets of apples and apricots and pears, hands black and sticky with the sweet walnut oil that somehow managed to get everywhere when the nuts were cracked open.

Days spent hiking through the mountains, having picnics on the edge of great rocks that jutted out over the clouds below them, reaching the edge of the snow line solely to have a furious midsummer snow-ball fight.

Days spent desperately seeking the cool shade inside the Chalet, checking over one another's homework and raiding Eleanor's well stocked library.

They'd even run through the play a few times – reading and acting through from start to finish (though they were all still religiously ignoring the kissing).

It was a little piece of heaven to be all together and away from concerns like parents and teachers and the worrying reports about dark wizards in the Daily Prophet… but in the nature of all things, it had to come to an end.

They'd spent the day working on the garden and farm, putting to good use all the skills they'd picked up during their month of detention, and were all hot and dusty when they collapsed into chairs in the relative cool of the kitchen. Estelle and Henrì would be returning from Toulouse in the morning, and there was a general feeling of wanting to look like they'd survived responsibly for a whole fortnight; Eleanor and Severus's school supplies had been delivered and tucked into their trunks, and people were beginning to half-heartedly collect their things together ready for the journey to Hogwarts.

Once they'd eaten and washed up, leaving the kitchen in as smart a condition as they could for Estelle, they went about their evening routines, picking up books or games (or in the case of the girls, occasional knitting), sloping off for a quick snog with partners when the occasion afforded it, and generally enjoying their last evening of holiday.

Eleanor was sat watching Remus and Peter play exploding snap at the other end of the table; it was strange, she reflected, how the potential of pyrotechnics could make such a usually boring game a spectator sport. She was putting Remus off, she knew, and as Peter blew himself up for the third time that evening, he met her eyes.

It was difficult, watching everyone else being close when you weren't supposed to… it wasn't as if he could do what James had done earlier, simply dragging a blushing Lily outside, to a chorus of giggles… not that she'd put up much of a fight.

She sighed and stood, stretching. She was restless tonight, and she knew why. There was still one thing she hadn't had chance to do since her guests had arrived and she'd missed it… she glanced around. There was no way she'd make it out of the chalet when it was full of Marauders, and with all the chaos packing ten teenagers' worth of stuff promised, tomorrow would be too late…

Outside, the light was beginning to dim, colours streaming across the summer sky… a slow and wicked smile spread like molasses across her face…

0o0o0o0

"Going for a shower?" asked Alice as she picked up her towel.

"No, not tonight."

"But where are you going with that towel?" she asked, trailing after her friend.

"Outside."

"Outside?"

"What's going on outside?" asked Frank, sticking his head out of Severus's room as they passed.

"I don't know, Eleanor's being all cryptic," said Alice, puzzled.

"Who's being cryptic?" asked Severus, joining them.

"Eleanor."

"Oh, hi Eleanor," said Peter, meeting her on the stairs. "What's with the towel?"

"It's just a towel," she smiled, and continued down the stairs.

Peter shot Alice a puzzled look.

"Don't look at _me_, she won't say…"

The four of them exchanged a Look and hurried after their friend.

"That was quick," remarked Claire. "Did you forget my book?"

"Yeah – Eleanor distracted me…"

"She's up to something," explained Frank, as Eleanor gathered a few bottles of the local fruit wines she'd been saving for the end of the holiday into a basket.

"Eleanor's up to something?" asked Lily, ears pricking up. "Ooh, can we help?"

"Honestly Lily, you're as bad as Prongs these days," said Peter.

"Who's as bad as me?" asked James, appearing as if from nowhere; Sirius and Remus were stood in the kitchen doorway, looking in at them in puzzlement.

"Lily."

"Must be your positive influence," said Sirius, from the doorway.

"Shut up Black."

"Anyway, what's Lily done that's as bad as James?" asked Remus.

"I haven't done anything."

"Why then, your comparison to the paragon of pranking is undeserved –"

"Shut up, Sirius," said Alice. "Eleanor's up to something."

"She is?" asked James.

"You are?" echoed Sirius.

"Possibly," said Eleanor, her back still to them.

"Like what?" asked Remus.

"She won't say," said Severus, watching his friend suspiciously.

"Why have you got a towel?" asked Claire.

"Because," said Eleanor, now adding pastries to the basket.

"Well I'm intrigued," said Sirius, and several of the others nodded. "I also have to say I'm beginning to get _very_ interested in where that basket is going."

"I just thought I'd take it down to the lake," said Eleanor, innocently.

"Well that explains the towel," said Lily."

"But you're not wearing a swimming costume," said Peter, in confusion.

Eleanor turned and gave them a beatific smile.

"I know."

In the time it took for them to assimilate this new information, Eleanor had padded to the door, slipped on her flip-flops and returned to collect the basket.

"Are you saying," said Sirius, in an unsteady voice. "That you're intending to go and _swim naked in the lake_?"

"Yes," she said simply, and glanced at Severus, who'd apparently opted for exactly the wrong moment to take a sip of his orange juice. "Nasty cough you've got there, Sev."

"But-but-" stammered Lily.

Remus appeared as though he was caught between the desperate need to find his own towel and the urge to shout at her. He was holding on to the door frame bit harder than was probably necessary, and looked as if his brain had stopped functioning entirely. Half turned away from the others, she gave him a sly wink.

"And – I just want to get this thoroughly clear –" said Sirius. "You'd be fine with all of us joining you?"

"Well I can't very well drink all of this on my own, can I?"

There was a startled few seconds before all of the boys – led by Sirius – ran for the stairs.

"What are you _thinking_?" hissed Lily, as they listened to the sounds of determined scrabbling coming from upstairs.

"I wanted a swim – and I normally _do_ do this alone, but there was no way I could get out of the chalet without being noticed, and this way we might get to see a bit more of _them_…"

Alice raised an eyebrow.

"You make a sound point," she said, and hurried up the stairs.

Lily and Claire stared after her.

"Look, you guys don't have to if you don't want to – but it _is_ pretty dark in the mountains, and a few sips of wine might help – and there will be no one else around, it's pretty secluded."

Claire looked at her, thoughtfully.

"Alice?" she called up the stairs. "Will you bring my towel too?"

There were a series of thuds from the room above them that suggested that both Peter and Frank had quite probably fallen over.

"But…" said Lily, uncertainly.

"We're all of age," said Eleanor, quickly, as the sounds of a returning stampede of boys filtered through the ceiling. "And no one's going to make you – swim in your underwear if it makes you feel better. Just because I intend to be brazen doesn't mean you have to be."

"Ready!" cried Sirius, tumbling down the stairs with Remus and Peter – the latter boy giving Claire a shy smile, which she returned.

"I hope you don't intend to bring your camera," said Eleanor, shifting the basket in her arms.

"I locked it in my trunk, just in case," he said, reassuringly, as James, Severus and Remus joined them once more.

"I think that's a _very_ good idea," said Remus, shortly. He looked quite flustered, and if he were honest with himself he couldn't quite believe that any of this was actually happening.

Looking at him with his flushed complexion and mussed hair, Eleanor decided that whatever else happened, Seeing Remus looking _that_ cute was definitely worth it.

"But-" said Lily again, and it looked for a moment as if James was going to tell everyone that this whole thing was a Very Bad Idea, but Alice interceded. She handed a towel to Claire and looked at Lily.

"I brought yours too," she said, with a very un-Alice like grin.

"Oh, _fine_," Lily huffed, and took the proffered fabric.

0o0o0o0

They trotted down the slope of the valley in the quickening darkness, Eleanor leading the way into a small wood, filled with the evening calls of bird and the beautiful, alien colours of sunset pouring through the leaves.

Remus sidled over to Eleanor.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, almost certain that every legitimate couple in the vicinity was having the same hushed conversation.

"It's nearly dark," she said. "We'll be almost invisible to one another when the sun sets."

"It's that 'almost' I'm worried about," he mumbled, thinking both of Eleanor's reputation and his own scant dignity. It was one thing for his friends to know that he was a werewolf, but quite another to let them see the cobweb of scars decorating his body.

Eleanor found his hand in the gloom.

"I do this all the time when there's no one around."

"You do?" he asked, voice a little higher than normal, and she laughed.

As they cleared the trees, the whispered conversations and crunching of gravel beneath their feet stopped abruptly and were replaced by a collective gasp.

The lake was resplendent in the waning light, a concert of reds and oranges glittering across the horizon; the woods ran right down to the water on both sides, but the far side of the lake was open to the sky.

"Wow," breathed Sirius, suddenly appearing on her other side; Remus nodded, emphatically.

"There's a huge waterfall down at the far end," said Eleanor. "So I'd recommend staying out of the water down there. If you promise not to do anything stupid –"

"Why are you all looking at me?" asked James, sounding bewildered.

"We could walk across the rocks at the edge and have a look – it's a long way down…"

"Possibly before we have any wine," said Lily.

"Agreed," said Alice, setting out her towel on the grass above the lake.

It didn't take them long to skirt the edge of the lake, but by the time they reached the rocks the stars were coming out. They were slippery with foam and navigating them was pretty tricky, but the view from the middle was more than worth it.

Remus sat down beside Eleanor, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the waterfall; the roar of water hitting earth was drifting up from far below them, and the mist rising up around them made them feel like they were sitting inside their own personal cloud. He dropped his hand onto Eleanor's hoping that no one would notice, and they sat for a while in relative peace, watching the slow progression of the stars, scattered across the deep velvet blue of the sky.

Eleanor was the first to make a move back to the grassy shore, restless as she was; Remus followed, slowly. He really wasn't sure about this… on the one hand: who _doesn't_ want to see the woman they love dive into a lake in the Alps, with not a stitch on? On the other: who wants Sirius Black to see the same thing?

_Actually_, he thought, _that really wouldn't be anything new at Hogwarts…_

Who wants the first time you see the woman you love naked to be _this _public? Or for that matter, the first time _she_ sees _you_…

"Oh, this is _horrible_," he mumbled.

Ahead of him, Eleanor's footsteps stopped and there was the telltale rustle of fabric; she had been right, it _was_ dark out now, he could really only make out her outline. He swallowed, hard. It was an outline that was now looking distinctly bereft of clothing…

There were a series of splashes off to his left, followed by a larger, wave-like sound, suggesting that Eleanor had taken a running jump into the water.

"Bloody hell," said Frank's voice from somewhere behind him. "She wasn't kidding, was she?"

"That girl," said Sirius, firmly. "Is damn' sexy."

Remus felt himself nodding, though he wished with everything he was that Sirius didn't know that.

Sirius seemed to sense his discomfort and entirely misinterpret it. He ruffled his friend's hair.

"Come on Moony, it'll be fine," he said, quietly. "It's way too dark for anyone to see much of anyone else…"

Remus grunted, hoping to get rid of his inexplicably overprotective friend; he started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling a little with the buttons.

"How's the water?" called Alice, from somewhere off to his right. Her voice sounded slightly muffled, as though she were pulling her t-shirt over her head.

There was a splash and a laugh before Eleanor answered.

"Glorious," she said, and her relaxed tone made Remus's fingers slip on his buttons.

All around him was the sound of people struggling out of their clothes; he unbuckled his belt and added it to the pile of clothing at his feet.

"Last one in is a big fat hippogriff!" bellowed Sirius, and barrelled into the water. Several dark shapes rushed past him and the night erupted into splashes and shrieks and giggles.

"Come on, Lupin," Severus said, sauntering past at a thoroughly unjustified speed. "Or you'll miss your chance."

Remus stood, mostly naked, staring after him.

_What the hell does that mean?_ He thought, pulling off his boxers. He shivered, despite the warmth of the summer night.

"Oh, I'm really not sure about this," said a voice beside him.

"Lily?" he asked, quietly.

"Oh, I thought everyone was in there already…"

"No…I'm, er, waiting until James and Sirius go further out… they have a fun game called 'let's drown people'," he replied. "Are – are you ok with this?"

"Yes – I mean, no – I mean… I don't know…"

"Me too."

"No one other than my sister has seen me naked for a long time…"

"Well, if it helps, _I_ can't see anything, and I have creepy enhanced werewolf senses…"

"That _does_ help, actually…"

A shriek from the water suggested that Alice had fallen prey to Sirius Black: Human Piranha.

"Sorry Alice, it's against my nature to pass up an opportunity when it – er – _presents_ itself."

"Claire? Eleanor?"

"Yes?"

"Get him."

"Aaah!"

"You know," said Remus, over the watery kafuffle unfolding before them. "You don't have to do this."

"Neither do you, and yet here we both are, standing naked next to an alpine lake full of our equally naked friends."

Remus blushed, despite the darkness.

"Well… ladies first then…"

They walked forward together; when the water began to lap at his feet he was surprised to find that it was just the right temperature: just cool enough to be refreshing and just warm enough to be relaxing.

"Right," said James's voice. "Let go of Sirius, ladies, you're more than outnumbered."

"Yes," said Eleanor, in the distance. "But we're a lot more resourceful."

"I'm on _their_ side," said Severus's voice, flatly.

"You're all mouth and no mettle," taunted Peter, from somewhere to Eleanor's left. He knew what they were doing: distracting her while Sirius, who from the sounds of it had escaped from Claire and Alice, got behind her.

There was an Eleanor-like yelp and a roar that sounded a lot like Sirius; Remus plunged into the water and swam between the dark bodies, surfacing just behind Sirius.

He pushed his head under water; Sirius came up spluttering. He smelled, rather than saw, Eleanor swim away.

"What was that for?"

"Last summer, when you did exactly the same to me," he said, smugly.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed."

He should have known they were up to something the moment everything went quiet, but he didn't react, too caught up in his own, personal victory.

"Aaah!" he sputtered as he was pushed, bodily, under the water, only to come up laughing a few seconds later.

"I'll get you for that," he said, shaking the water out of his eyes.

"That was mean," said Frank, swimming up; he could smell Severus treading water somewhere close by.

"Three on three?" asked James, and Remus could hear the grin on his face.

"You're going down, Potter," said Severus, jovially.

"Boys," said Alice, as the four girls trod water just out of range of what had quickly devolved into an aquatic wrestling match. "Honestly. Put four naked women into a lake and what do they do? Wrestle."

"I think we've probably discovered the latent homosexual tendencies of our boyfriends," said Lily.

"Never mind them, they'll get tired eventually," said Eleanor. "I want to show you something…" she swam off towards one of the forest-edges of the lake. The trees came right down to the water here, some of their dark boughs dipping into the lake; they found that they could put their feet down on the slippery roots of the trees, reaching out beneath the water as an echo of their branches. Around their shadowy trunks were bright pinpoints of light, swirling languidly back and forth through the warm night air.

"Fireflies?" whispered Claire.

"Yes."

"They're beautiful…" said Lily.

"Although we are a touch more visible now…" said Alice, glancing around.

The glow of the fireflies wasn't much to see by, and the lake water obscured most of their bodies, but there was just enough for them to pick out the details of each others faces. It gave them all an eerie, ethereal look.

"We look weird," said Claire. "Like ghosts or something…"

"Or angels…" whispered Lily.

"Guys?" hissed Eleanor. "Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know," said Alice, and they all burst into giggles.

0o0o0o0

By the time the boys had finished splashing around with one another and noticed the absence of their young women, the girls had decided to have a damn' good swim. They raced one another over and across the lake a few times, swimming with or against the current until their muscles began to ache, revelling in the sheer joy of movement.

Remus, aching, happy and now a lot more comfortable with being naked in a lake full of people, trod water near the centre of the lake, trying to identify by sound and smell the locations of his friends.

James and Lily were over on the right hand shore of the lake, splashing about happily; Peter and Claire were racing one another in the shallows; he'd rather lost track of Frank and Alice, the last he'd sensed them they'd been floating side by side in the shallows.

Severus and Sirius weren't in the lake anymore, and Remus suspected that at least one – if not both – of them was already dressed again; he could see them sat on the edge of the waterfall. Vaguely, he wondered what the long-time-enemies could be talking about, but he had no intention of interrupting them. Taking one last sensory glance around to make sure everyone else was far enough away, he swam over to Eleanor, who was splayed out, starfish-like, on the surface of the lake.

"So, not such a bad idea, after all?" she said, lazily skimming her arms across the silvery surface of the water.

"I haven't made my mind up yet," he said, and moved into position beside her.

They floated side by side for a while, staring up into the canopy of stars above them, relishing the silky feel of the water lapping at their bodies; peaceful in one another's quiet company. The distant sounds of splashing diminished as various couples moved off to find their clothes, or somewhere more private, or both.

There was a splash from beside him and he felt Eleanor move off towards the bank. They'd drifted under the trees to the left of the lake, and Remus was surprised to see that here some of the stars were zooming around.

"They're fireflies," said Eleanor, from the bank.

He looked up at her as he trod water; no longer just an outline, she was stood on a sizable rock that had somehow wedged itself between two great trees. One of the trees, a willow, had created a kind of natural shelter above the rock, high enough to stand up in; the great branches of the trees swept around it, daring you to climb them. The faint glow of the fireflies played on Eleanor's wet skin as she stood there, looking down at him from her private den. She was still wearing the promise bracelet he'd given her, it glinted in the soft light, catching his eye.

It was all Remus could do not to pull her straight back into the lake…

He pushed himself out of the water and climbed up the rocks and branches to stand behind her, breathing hard.

"Very, _very_ bad idea," he said, quietly, taking her in as the light gave her skin an otherworldly glow. Droplets of water were forming on her skin like tiny, iridescent jewels, burning her image into his mind indelibly.

"Oh, I don't know…" she said, not turning around.

"Really?" he asked, moving closer; a bead of water was forming at the nape of her neck and he couldn't take his eyes off it. He ached to touch it – touch _her_ – follow the inexorable and chaotic path that the droplet would take down her back with his fingers…

"Well, Lily and James have snuck off together, probably to make all of James's fantasies come true…"

"Mmmph," he said, thinking of some of his own fantasies.

"… I think I saw Alice and Frank running off hand in hand towards the woods…"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, fighting the urge to trace the curve of her waist with his hands.

"… Claire and Peter are making out on the shore…"

"Are they?" he asked, weakly. The droplet that had grown at the nape of her neck had finally begun its descent; he watched it as it ran down her shoulders and the small of her back, pausing for a moment above the delicious curve of her bottom.

Remus was aware that his knees were trembling, and the tiny part of his brain not currently occupied with running his eyes over his would-be lover wondered whether she could hear them.

"… and Sirius and Severus appear to be having a long overdue heart-to-heart…"

"Mmm…" he said, watching as the droplet ran over her bottom and out of sight. "There are other things that are long overdue," he managed, trying and failing not to sound too predatory.

Eleanor laughed lightly and glanced back at him, over her shoulder.

"Very much so, if things were different."

He took a step forward; if he wanted to he could reach out and touch her soft, damp skin. _Gods_ did he want to.

"I'm beginning not to care…" he said, and Eleanor stiffened as the ghost of his fingertips brushed her back. There was another bead of water collected at that soft place in the dip of her shoulder; he stared at it.

"Nor I… I didn't intend to put us in this position…" she said, softly.

Something in Remus snapped and he closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around her and closing his lips around the droplet of water that had been torturing him. He felt her sharp intake of breath at his sudden closeness, and it made him hold her tighter, both of them revelling in the feel of their naked flesh pressing against one another, tiny rivulets of water running over and between them both.

Remus kissed her shoulder again, and then, responding to some deep, primal need, closed his teeth around the flesh of her shoulder; she gasped and arched back against him, surprised by the sudden flash of pain.

He moved along her shoulder and neck, kissing and nipping as she pressed back against him; she could feel something definitely hard pressing against her back and she trembled against him, her own lust dizzying her.

His lips brushed against the nape of her neck, one hand on the slight swell of her stomach, the other moving up to caress her breasts. She whispered his name as her fingers stroked his, willing him on.

"Oh, Ellie," he murmured, running his fingers across her skin – the peculiar contrast of his hot skin and the cool water were doing things to Eleanor's body that she hadn't known were possible; he was quivering against her back, trying to control himself.

"We – we – shouldn't do this," she panted. "Not now, not like this…"

Remus groaned in frustration and held her more tightly, but his hands stilled.

Gently, Eleanor moved his hands away, missing intensely both the contact and the heat. They stared at one another, shivering.

"I'm sorry," she said, softly. "It's not that I don't want…"

"I know – me too," he said, breathing still quite ragged. "But you're right…"

Eleanor smiled sadly and climbed back down the bank, slipping into the lake. Her eyes closed, she stretched, gratefully replacing the feeling of tactile loss with the feeling of the water on her skin.

She felt Remus slip into the water beside her, and relished the sensation of the ripples washing over her. She looked up at him; he was watching her with a curious expression on his face: it was equal parts sadness, frustration and something else that she couldn't quite place.

He swam a little closer, invading her personal space, but gently so, giving her time to back off if she wanted or needed to.

"Ellie, I… We need to talk about this," he said, firmly, one hand keeping himself afloat, the other grazing the skin of her arm. "I don't think I can… I _can't_ do this for much longer. It – it just hurts too much…"

Eleanor nodded, fighting the urge to cry; whatever else happened, he didn't need to see that, and he was right. It _did_ hurt.

"I think we should – we need to set a time after which –" he stammered, clearly battling his own emotions.

Eleanor closed her eyes, she really didn't want to hear this; they flew open again as his fingers – gentle as ever – closed around her arm. He was looking at her with a strange determination.

"-after which we just give up and tell Sirius that we're together."

She stared at him.

"I'm not going to give you up Ellie, I can't. I – wha – why are you laughing?"

Eleanor, who'd long held that it was impossible to laugh and cry all at the same time tried to steady herself against him in the water as she disproved her own theory.

"I'm s-sorry – I thought you were going to say that you – that we were f-finished. This – this is _relief_," she managed, between the strange giggling sobs.

"No – I don't want that at _all_," he said, shocked.

"N-nor do I," she said, letting herself drift closer to him. "Not ever."

And she kissed him, gently but firmly, the water lapping around their thirsty bodies like quicksilver.

"The play," he said, when they came up for air. "After the play I'll ask you out publicly," he grinned. "Or just snog you in the middle of the Common Room or something."

"Sounds good to me," she said, and kissed him again. Their kisses, although passionate, were gentler than before, both of them aware that although they couldn't take this further now, there would soon be a time when they could.

0o0o0o0

"Where _is_ everyone?" Sirius had huffed, pulling on his clothes.

Severus gave him the kind of Look that suggested Sirius might have dropped his brain somewhere in the lake, but it was too dark for him to see.

"Probably taking the opportunity to grope one another in private," he said, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

Sirius sniggered.

"Probably… well, except Remus and Ellie – they're probably just avoiding the scattered pockets of teenage lust as best they can."

Severus stared at him in the darkness; denial was a phenomenal thing.

"Probably…"

Sirius kicked at the ground.

"You want to head back?"

Severus considered this; he wasn't particularly tired, and Sirius sounded restless…

He shook his head; even three months previously he wouldn't have considered this wise, but…

"We could walk, if you want."

"Waterfall?"

"Yes, alright."

They walked through the woods in silence, quite uncertain of what to say to one another. It's one thing to cease all outward displays of animosity, but finding common ground for conversation with someone who until recently you would have hexed on sight is quite another.

"So," said Sirius, as they looked between their feet to the cavernous expanse below.

"So?"

"Are you enjoying being here?"

The question was strained, and for Sirius, quite an odd one, but Severus suspected that he knew where this was going. The address Sirius had provided him with wasn't one he'd ordinarily associate with the Great and Noble House of Black.

"More than I enjoyed Spinners' End," he said, carefully.

"Yeah?" Sirius asked. "I'm – er – sorry about all that…"

"It was beyond anyone's control."

"Still…"

"Well, thank you."

There was a pause while the two boys listened to the distant roar of the water below them.

"I – I know what it feels like," said Sirius, haltingly. "To have – problems – at home…"

Severus grunted. Even if he had seen this conversation coming he felt he was perfectly entitled not to enjoy it.

"So if you ever need to – you know – talk about it, or, or vent, or whatever – just come and find me…"

"Er, thank you," said Severus. He glanced up at his unlikely friend.

"It's pretty tough being out on your own," Sirius was saying, quietly. "It's really good that Ellie was there for you – though we all would be, if you needed us. You know that, right?" he looked up at him earnestly. "Now that we're mates, if you need help –"

"I got it, thanks…"

"Oh. Good."

"When did you leave?" asked Severus, quietly. Sirius stared at him.

"How did you know?"

"Forgive me, but a flat in the rough end of Stockport seemed an unlikely place for Walburga Black to be living."

"Oh, right…" he paused, before continuing. "Last summer. Went to live with Prongs for a while – it was…"

"Rough?"

"Yeah. I was never good enough, you know? Although I suppose in my case it was 'bad' enough," he scoffed. "Bloody Pureblood nonsense. They could never accept the friends I'd chosen…"

"Forgive me," Severus said again. "But they were fools."

"Too bloody right, mate. You know what my little brother's doing this summer? Working with Voldemort to bring about the mighty Pureblood dawn."

Severus swore.

"He's a Death Eater?"

"He showed me his tattoo. He was so _proud_," hissed Sirius, bitterly. "He's _fifteen_, for fuck's sake…"

"That's… mind you, Mulciber and Rosier were talking about 'joining up' before their unfortunate 'accidents'…"

"_Really_?"

"Yes. It would have made it much more difficult to keep out of it all… a few of the seventh years were already members…"

It was Sirius's turn to swear.

"Right under Dumbledore's nose, too!"

"I suspect he knows, all too well…" said Severus, thoughtfully. "It's the way he'd look at them sometimes, as if he'd let them down…"

"He didn't let _them_ down. They let _him_ down," Sirius growled.

"I agree, but I don't think he does… I think he wants to protect us. All of us."

There was a fraught silence.

"This war – by the time we leave Hogwarts – we're going to be right in the thick of it, aren't we…"

"Yes."

The two boys stared out into the night and shivered, despite the warmth of the summer evening.

0o0o0o0

By the time Remus and Eleanor got back to the Chalet, the sounds of Sirius's snores were already reverberating through Severus's bedroom door. From the collection of shoes by the front door they deduced that Frank and Alice were also back, as was Severus. They'd seen Peter and Claire in the orchard, asleep in one another's arms at the base of the great walnut tree, but Lily and James were still absent.

"I don't feel like sleeping just yet," said Remus, toying with the sleeve of her blouse.

"Cocoa?"

"I could go for that," he grinned, and watched her move about the kitchen with silent grace.

They carried their hot drinks outside and settled down together in the swing seat on the veranda – the reasoning being, if anyone in the house came out they'd hear them in time to move, and they'd be able to see any returning couples long before they would see _them_.

It was exquisitely peaceful, lounging together in shelter and comfort, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies and the sweet night breeze, sipping hot cocoa.

Eleanor thought that if she could, she'd stay like this forever.

"Remus?" she asked, softly.

"Yes, love?"

"I've been meaning to ask – about the bracelet." She felt him tense, and that was enough to partially confirm her suspicions.

"What about it?"

"Was there any – oh, I don't know… hidden meaning to it?" she asked, choosing her words carefully.

"What kind of hidden meaning?" he asked, sounding much like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the sweets jar.

"You know what kind," she said, gently. She turned to face him. "Don't you."

"Er…" he bit his lip. "Well, there _is_ this old wizarding tradition…"

"Go on," she said, trying not to laugh.

"Um, ok, well, bracelets were given instead of…" he met her eyes and saw the laughter there. Emboldened, he continued: "Instead of promise rings, or wedding bands."

"I'd heard something about that, actually," she said, unable to stop the smile creeping across her face.

"Lily and Alice?"

"Who else?"

Remus chuckled and glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist.

"You're still wearing it," he said, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I am."

"And, you're alright with that?"

"With the fact that bracelets used to be given as promises or that you intended it when you gave it to me?"

"Er – either? Both?"

"I'm not sure," she said, feigning puzzlement. "Were you ever going to explain it to me?"

"I – I'd intended to ask you properly, one day… but that _is_ why I bought it for you… I," he took a deep breath. "I would very much like to marry you one day… if that's what you want."

"It is," she said coyly, taking his hand. "Very much."

A wide grin broke across Remus's face, and he laced his fingers with hers.

"Excellent – that's –"

Unable to find the words to express how happy he was, right at this moment, he simply beamed at her, and she laughed, resting her head back against his chest.

"I will ask you properly some day," he said, after a while. "When we're not silly teenagers any more, and have proper jobs and things – you know, when we're responsible adults."

"You might have to wait a while then," she said, laughing quietly. "I don't intend to ever be a 'responsible adult'."

"How about 'irresponsible adults' then?"

"That will have to do, I suppose. You poor fool, getting yourself stuck forever with someone as contrary as I am."

"I can't think of any better fate," he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"Remus?" she asked, after a few minutes silence.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Ellie."

"Good."


	23. Get In and Technical

'_XVII – It is not the question 'What __**if**__ something goes wrong?' but 'What __**will**__ go wrong?'' – Excerpt from the Techie Bible_

0o0o0o0

Their return to school was strange, this being their final year, and the knowledge that a mere ten months stood between them and all the terrors and delights of the 'real world' was seeping in at them from every direction. It also felt odd for them to be in separate houses again – particularly for Eleanor and Severus, who had grown used to one another's daily company over the summer.

They'd created something of a stir in the first week back when for some reason the teachers' desks in every classroom had broken into song, ranging from traditional English madrigals to bawdy Goblin hearth-songs. The staff had been under no illusion whatsoever about who was responsible, but were finding it more difficult than usual to prove it, since the ranks of the Marauders had swollen in somewhat unpredictable directions. The furniture was eventually returned to normal when Lily and Frank had had enough and held James and Sirius upside down until they agreed to break the charm.

Term progressed much as normal (or at least, normal for Hogwarts) as the colours of autumn cascaded around them, and their time was filled to bursting with a phenomenal amount of schoolwork, quidditch practice, chess clubs, study groups and patrols, leaving little time for socialising or getting into mischief.

And then there was the play.

If they'd thought the teachers were pushing them with three rehearsals a week in the previous term, they were astonished to discover that this term they were expected to attend four, with two six-hour stretches on Saturdays and Sundays. The only exception was made for game days, largely on the basis that if they didn't let the students play or attend they would have a full scale mutiny on their hands. Eleanor suspected that it also had a fair amount to do with the staff quidditch pool.

By the time show week rolled around, the majority of the seventh years were already weary, and for most of them the sudden change of pace was quite a shock.

"It's not as if I'd _forgotten_ it was happening," said Alice, over breakfast. "But I can't believe this last couple of months have gone so fast – it's sort of crept up on me."

"Niffe to 've a wk off 'essons 'ough," said Sirius, through a mouthful of sausage.

"Eurgh," said Eleanor, swatting his arm. "Chew, swallow, _then_ talk."

"I said," began Sirius, wiping his mouth. "It's nice to have a week off lessons."

"Don't go thinking this is going to be relaxing," said Peter, waving an admonishing fork. "We might get an extra hour's sleep every morning, but we'll probably be working fourteen hour shifts – if not longer."

"They'll let us eat, though, right?" asked James, looking worried. "I wouldn't like to be the person that tells Padfoot here he can't have his tea."

"Oy!" said Sirius, spraying the table with half chewed tomato.

"Chew your food!"

"Shove off, Moony!"

"He's not the only one," said Lily, glancing at Remus, and James nodded.

The closer it had got to the performance the rattier he had become, snarling at things he'd normally ignore and hiding in his work. When he got angry these days the only person that could calm him down was Eleanor, and even Sirius was beginning to notice, giving them odd looks from time to time and getting huffy with his friend if they were together.

It didn't help that tonight was full moon – while most of the students would be painting, building or rearranging the set he would be conspicuously absent, and that was weighing on him. It was a lot easier to be inconspicuously unwell behind a textbook on the back row of a classroom. Even the other boys, whom Eleanor had long suspected of somehow keeping him company, would be involved in the 'get in', and there appeared to be a tacit agreement that this month he'd be going it alone.

He looked exhausted this morning, and Eleanor caught his hand as they walked out to the grounds to begin putting the stage together; he gave her fingers a grateful squeeze.

"It's this bit I really don't like," he confided in her, wearily. "Well," he clarified, "I don't really like any of it, but it annoys me that I have to be bloody knackered before _and_ after the change."

"The teachers will let you do something non-strenuous, I'm sure…" said Eleanor, moving away from him a little as the Hufflepuffs appeared behind them.

"Yes…"

"You're worried that people will notice?" She took his silence as confirmation. "It'll be fine. Trust me, given the way you look right now no one's going to find it strange that you'll need to head to the Hospital Wing. Just pretend it's some kind of twenty-four hour virus thing – it will explain why you're a little out of it tomorrow, too."

He gave her a small smile.

"You think of everything, don't you?"

She gave him a playful (if gentle) shove.

"I take after my mother."

"What I have ever done without you I will never know," he said, softly.

"Ready for this week, Remus?" called a Ravenclaw that Eleanor recalled from Transfiguration. "Ooh, you look _awful_."

"Thanks, Crispin."

"No really, like Dragon Pox warmed up… are you sure you should be helping today – we don't want to lose you for the play…"

"I'll be alright," he said, wryly. "I don't think I'd be allowed to be ill on Saturday."

Crispin chuckled.

"I hope so – don't work too hard, ok?"

"See," Eleanor said, under her breath. "Crispin just thinks you're ill."

He shook his head at her as they reached the edge of the Lake.

It had been decided that this year's performance would take place outside, in sheer defiance of the weather Gods. A stage had been put together on the edge of the water, with the Lake as a backdrop; the Giant Squid was watching the activity from a short distance away with (as far as anyone could tell) great interest.

It was quite a sight.

They all stood around the edge of it, shivering and stamping their feet in the cold.

"I hope they put some kind of warming spell on the stage and audience," said Lily, her teeth chattering.

"Should do," said Frank. "I can't imagine the Minister of Magic freezing when he could simply set up a quick warming charm. Even if it _is_ for charity."

"And then there's the parents," added Pearl Holmes, of Hufflepuff. "My Mum and Dad are Muggles – I don't think the school would want them to catch pneumonia at such a public event."

"Plus some of those costumes are a bit skimpy," said Eleanor, nodding. "It wouldn't look very good if the whole cast turned blue."

"Skimpy?" asked Sirius, hopefully. "How skimpy?"

"Not _that_ skimpy…"

"Mind out of the gutter, Black," said Lily, tolerantly.

"It _is_ supposed to be in Italy in summer," said Eleanor, shrugging. "Besides, half of Shakespeare is about body parts."

"You what?" asked Peter, convinced that he'd misheard her.

"Well it is – most of it is, well, _penis _related." She coloured, suddenly aware that she had the attention of every student in a four-foot radius. "Hadn't you noticed? Any word that sounds remotely stick-like – like dagger, sword, stick, club, stalk, horn, point…"

She was thankful to be cut off at that point, although everyone around her looked like they now were reviewing their lines with intense concentration.

"Well ladies and gentlemen," piped up Filius from the stage. "One more week and it will all be over – and you'll miss it, I can guarantee," he added, to a general air of disbelief. "But before you can tread the boards we have to assemble them. Minerva, Pomona and I will split you into groups – you'll be given various tasks and so on."

They waited impatiently in the growing cold as they were bustled off to different areas. Sirius and James were immediately separated and given tasks that were considered unlikely to explode, like carrying chairs and tables. Lily and Claire ended up on painting duty with Frank and some of the Slytherins, while Peter and Remus were given the (mercifully unenergetic) task of finishing off the programmes. Eleanor, Alice and Severus were assigned the costumes, much to their entertainment.

After they'd set up their own localised warming charms, they worked steadily as the day wore on, fetching, carrying, labelling and making sure that everything was actually _there_ for each character; by the time they broke for a late lunch they were ready to start fitting people.

For the sake of simplicity, they decided to start with themselves, booking times for everyone else during the week so as not to permanently be chasing their classmates around the school. Severus looked very dapper indeed in his dusty grey breeches and shirt, much to his embarrassment; he was drawing more than a few interested looks from the female half of his classmates as they went about their business. He gave Eleanor an uncomfortable smile as she fitted his coat.

"You look great," she said, through a mouthful of pins.

He huffed, and then blushed as someone behind her wolf-whistled. She turned, half expecting to see Sirius or James, but they were nowhere to be seen; a group of boys from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin were trying to figure out how to hang the bulky curtains for the front of the stage. Wilbur Crabbe noticed her look and gave her a cheery wave, which she returned, turning back to Severus with a raised eyebrow.

"If I were to ask those boys whether any of them had a snowy owl, would I get a 'yes'?" she said, in an undertone.

"Shut up."

"Boots," she said, grinning.

"Are you going to have a beard?" asked Alice, as she finished the hem of Lily's dress.

"I think so," said Severus gruffly, pulling on his boots. "Professor Sprout keeps bringing it up, but hopefully they'll forget…"

"It's because the older gents _were_ bearded," Eleanor said, more clearly since she'd put down her pins. "That's why Algernon, Frank, Sirius and Remus have to have charmed beards too… though Remus gets rid of his about halfway through."

"Because you'd rather 'lie in the woollen'," snorted Alice.

"Alright, you, clothes off, costume on."

Alice continued to giggle as she retreated behind the screen they'd set up; Severus stood up to be inspected.

"Well?"

"Not bad," said Eleanor, her head to one side. "Have a look in the mirror."

Alice came back around the corner of the screen while Severus surveyed himself.

"You look just right," she smiled. "I, on the other hand… I see what you meant about 'skimpy'. I know Margaret's a bit of a tart, but I was expecting something that actually covered my chest."

"They're all like that," said Eleanor, turning her friend around gently. "Arms up."

She wrapped a plain calico corset around her friend's waist.

"Not too tight… I want to be able to bend and breathe and things…"

"Deep breath."

"You said you wanted to borrow the camera?" asked Frank, wandering over with it in his hands.

"If we could," said Severus. "It's for the programme…"

"Righty-ho. You look dapper," said Frank.

"I think I look like a tit."

"Well, you're wrong," said Eleanor, lacing Alice's corset as loosely as she reasonably could. "How's that?"

"Yes, that's ok… now where-?"

She turned, bending to pick up her shoes, which had fallen under a chair. Frank's jaw dropped; Nathan Perks, who had been coming over to compliment Severus on his costume, stopped dead in his tracks. Alice straightened up.

"What?" she asked, as they stared at her.

"Bloody hell Roberts, where have you been hiding those beauties?" asked Sirius, setting a pile of chairs down and leaning against them.

Alice looked down at herself and was astonished to discover that the dress and corset did quite exceptional things for her breasts. She blushed furiously, but turned back to the boys with a bright smile.

"Under my shirt, where they belong. Don't you have work to be doing?"

She reached out and took the camera from Frank's unresisting hands.

"So it suits me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He gave an involuntary laugh.

"If I hadn't already asked you to marry me, I'd do it now…" he responded, in an undertone, but Eleanor caught it nonetheless.

She turned back to Severus, smirking.

"Right you, beard up."

He groaned as she turned back to the still-gawping boys and waved them on.

"Trying to get rid of me love?" asked Sirius, with easy irreverence. "I want to stick around and see you in _your_ dress." He gave her one of his impish grins and she couldn't help but return it.

"Go away, Sirius."

"Spoil sport."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he shrugged, picking up his stack of furniture.

"Let me know if you change your mind," he said, with a wink. "Oy, Perksy, pick up your jaw and onwards mate."

"Wha- oh, yeah…" Nathan shook himself and set off towards the stage.

Shaking her head, she turned back to Severus and helped him pick the least ridiculous and most accurate beard as Alice managed to persuade Frank to leave and sat down to do her make up. She cast an approving eye over her squirming friend.

"That beard kind of suits you," she said, still quite pink.

"It itches," complained Severus, as Eleanor set up the camera.

"You'll get used to it."

"I doubt it…"

"I think it makes you look distinguished," said Alice. Whereas _I_ look… well…" she gestured to her chest.

"Ravishing?" suggested Eleanor.

"Eye-catching?" Severus proposed, diplomatically.

"Like a cheap tart…" Alice grimaced.

"Oh _no_," said Eleanor fairly, standing behind her friend at the make up table. "Well," she went on. "Certainly not a _cheap_ one…"

Alice caught her eye and laughed.

"Well, there is that…"

"I think you look fine," said Severus, absently rearranging his beard. "I've seen people wearing much more risqué garments at the Gala…"

"I suppose…" said Alice, fiddling with the lid of a tub of makeup.

"Get your make up on while I photograph Severus, and I'll do your hair," said Eleanor, turning back to her friend. "You know it probably wouldn't itch as much if you didn't keep messing with it."

"Wait 'til you have to wear one and then tell me it doesn't itch," he grumbled, but moved into position under an oak for the photograph.

"Try to look like you're a cantankerous old nobleman," she instructed. "No, that's just you looking pissed off… try reciting one of your lines…"

"At a word, I am not," he sighed.

"Graces will appear, and there's an end," recited Eleanor, and took the photograph at the moment he began to grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Can I take the beard off now?"

"Yes, you can take the beard off."

"Thank Merlin."

"Right, my hair…" said Alice, thoughtfully. "I don't know – I though it would look better down, but it makes me look a bit like a librarian like that and I don't think Margaret would like that…"

"I don't know," came Severus's muffled voice from behind the screen. "Depends on the librarian."

"You don't have a crush on Madame Pince, do you?" asked Alice, turning.

"Stay still."

"But –"

"Hair now, gossip later…" Eleanor weighed her wand, looking at Alice speculatively. "Do you trust me?"

Alice considered her for a moment, before nodding decisively.

"Right," said Eleanor, and muttered a charm to curl Alice's hair. It hung in loose ringlets, framing her face and neck. "How's that?"

"Oh that's much more Margaret," exclaimed Alice, happily. "Severus, would you take a picture while Ellie's changing?"

"Particularly if I get to give her a beard," he said, back in his uniform.

Eleanor gave him a playful swat as she passed him.

She heard Peter and Remus come over as she changed behind the screen and winced: Remus really didn't sound good.

She emerged to find him sitting on one of the benches someone had abandoned near enough to them to be absorbed; his skin was very pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was tapping his foot restlessly, however; apparently he'd just hit that point where his self control began to slip. She gave him a small smile, which he returned wearily.

Peter was being fitted by Severus, so Alice helped fit Eleanor's corset, which had a similar effect on the assembled males. Severus nodded approvingly while Peter gave a low whistle. Remus couldn't take his eyes off her; he blinked several times, mouth forming that roguish sideways smile that she loved.

Aware that he was staring at her, Remus deliberately tore his eyes away… he had to stop being around her at full moon, he decided. She was much too enticing for her own good… and his… He glanced back up as Alice lengthened Eleanor's hair, letting it fall in golden waves down her back; she shook it back, laughing. One tendril of her hair rested against her shoulder and curled down towards her ample breasts; he bit his lip. He was developing a truly unhealthy obsession with that slight dip above her collar bone, too…

_Not good_, he thought. _Think of something else…_

But he couldn't. She was just too tangible and nearby and _Oh Gods…_

He endeavoured to look away from her as Alice took her picture, staring out into the grounds instead.

It was a good job that everyone would be occupied tonight… if the boys were there to let him out it was likely that the first thing the werewolf did was try to get to Eleanor. And he really didn't want that.

He glanced back, and to his relief she and Alice, who was also looking distractingly buxom, went to change. Instead he turned his attention to Peter, who was now fully dressed as a monk of the Franciscan order.

"Bless you, my son," he said, waving his hands in a benediction, and Remus laughed, weakly.

"You're not looking too well, Mr Lupin," said Professor Sprout gently, wandering past with a large tub of paint. "Perhaps you should go to the Hospital Wing," she added, glancing at the darkening sky. "Ah, Miss Wren – would you escort him please? I'm sure Miss Roberts and Mr Snape can manage."

"Yes Professor," she said, and gently took his arm as her hair returned to its usual short length. "You really don't look good," she said as they slowly walked back towards the Castle.

"You do," he said. "That costume… well…"

She blushed.

"I'm rather looking forward to seeing you in yours, I have to say… Signior Mountanto."

"Even with the beard?"

"Even with the beard… but you do get to shave it off," she reminded him, as they reached the Greenhouses, ducking into the warm Castle.

"Ellie," he said, as they moved through the deserted corridors.

"Yes?"  
>"We don't have to go straight to the Hospital Wing…" he said, looking wistful.<p>

Eleanor looked at him and bit her lip; there were still a few hours until the moon rose, after all.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, noticing for the first time how close to her he was walking. He was losing some of his fatigue now, and she recognised the playful glint in his eyes.

He gave her a rakish grin and nodded behind her; it was the statue of the Storm Mage that had got them all hot and bothered a year previously.

"How fitting," she laughed. "Alright, but no stopping breathing this time."

"Deal," he chuckled, leading her firmly to the more secluded side of the statue.

"I hope he doesn't mind our intrusion into his peace," said Eleanor, smiling.

Remus patted the leg of the statue absently, and leant against it on his elbow, effectively pinning her to the cool stone with his warm body. Not that she minded. She breathed him in: his scent was musky and a little spicy – like the smell you get after it rains – all strength and heat and inescapably male. Distracted, she tried to ignore the stirrings of lust in her abdomen. This was unwise.

"No doubt he got up to just the same sort of thing in his time here…" Remus murmured, his lips only inches from her own, the delicious curve of them sending her somewhere dark and needy.

"I don't doubt it," Eleanor managed, beginning to lose herself to the predatory sparkle in her lover's eyes. "You are a dangerous person to be around," she breathed, and he frowned, perplexed.

"How so?"

She fought the tremble that she felt pass through her body as his breath tickled the skin of her neck; every part of her wanted him nearer – hands, lips, teeth, fingers, anything. Forgetting that this was a full moon and they shouldn't be this close, forgetting that they weren't supposed to be doing this, forgetting that it wasn't _that_ late in the day and they could be unwittingly discovered at any moment, she pressed herself closer to him, appreciating the slight shudder as his body responded to hers.

She longed for him to touch her like he had had a year ago, driven to her by something deep and primal – or the way he had at the lake, the cool of the water and the fire in his fingers melting her flesh under the onslaught of their mutual lust.

"You make me so very… hungry…" she murmured, closing the gap between them and claiming his lips.

Remus responded in kind, one hand in her hair, the other doing unspeakably delicious things to the flesh of her stomach and hip. He slipped his hand inside her shirt and caressed the skin of her back, drawing languorous circles with his long fingers. Eleanor's hands, not wishing to remain idle, had also found their way inside his shirt and she stroked his back as he sighed into her mouth. The other hand, quite without instruction, moved down his back and rested on his bottom, which she squeezed.

Even through his kisses she could tell that he had chuckled, and one of his hands moved lower to return the favour. She squirmed against him, delighting in the strange fire that had ignited between them, and he moaned, the sound deep and full of want. Eleanor deepened the already passionate kiss, sliding her tongue over his and nibbling gently at his lower lip.

Remus pulled back a little and began to nip and kiss her neck; she bit her lip as his lips caressed the hollow above her collar bone before moving back to the dip in her shoulder that he'd bitten in the summer. She felt herself move against him as her head rolled to one side, giving him more room; he seemed to understand her silent request and he grazed her shoulder with the gentlest kisses before seizing her flesh with his teeth. Eleanor gasped in satisfaction and arched her body against his. He groaned and recaptured her lightly swollen lips, slipping one hand inside her shirt to grasp and caress her breast. It was Eleanor's turn to moan.

In the back of her mind, she registered a series of small sounds – not unlike the approach of hurried footsteps.

Gasping, she pushed Remus away; he looked confused and hurt, too caught up in his present actions to hear the danger.

"Someone's coming!" she hissed.

His head shot around as he, too, heard the approaching footsteps; they were getting nearer.

"In here," he whispered, and pulled her into the empty History of Magic classroom. Deftly, he Disillusioned the glass in the door so that they could see out but no one could see in.

"Who is it?" whispered Eleanor, standing close enough to him to entirely distract him.

"Erm –" he peered out into the dark corridor. It was dark now, but the torches hadn't let lit, lending to the gloom; to his astonishment he caught a glimpse of dark red hair.

Someone out in the corridor giggled and was hushed; the figures slipped behind a tapestry on the opposite side of the corridor.

"I – I think it's Lily and James…"

Eleanor sniggered. She had been the first awake the morning after their trip to the lake, and she alone had seen Lily and James walk back to the Chalet, hand in hand. Eleanor had been under no illusion whatsoever over what they'd been doing all night; she'd given her friend a knowing look when she'd entered the kitchen, trying to nonchalantly pull grass and twigs from her hair. Both James and Lily had blushed hotly before heading off to change.

Someone, presumably James, moaned urgently; the tapestry swung gently, as though someone had brushed against it.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait it out…" said Eleanor, and went to sit on one of the desks.

"I guess," said Remus, glancing at the enchanted clock above the blackboard; he still had a couple of hours, and hopefully their friends wouldn't want to be conspicuously absent for _too_ long.

He looked at Eleanor, face still flushed from their exertions. She too was a little pink, her uniform was messy and her hair was sticking up oddly where he'd run his hands through it; it gave him a sudden thrill to know that it was him that had made her look so devilishly dishevelled. He ached for her.

In the corridor behind him, James moaned again, and he added a silencing charm to the door, reflecting that on the whole, he'd rather not know.

He couldn't take his eyes off Eleanor though: she was trying to rearrange her shirt a little, and had taken off her tie. Watching her perched on the edge of one of the desks, absently swinging her shapely legs, he cursed whatever deity it was that had seen fit to lock him in a classroom with this gorgeous young woman on a full moon.

"What?" she asked, noticing both his gaze and his slight frown.

"Nothing," he said, quickly, and against his better judgement sat on the next bench over. This, as it turned out, was a mistake. His eyes widened as he recognised a familiar scent; how was he supposed to sit still, sat next to the girl of his dreams and perfectly aware that they were both equally aroused? It was beyond comprehension.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to shake the feel of her soft lips from his mind.

"Getting restless?" Eleanor asked, unaware of his current distress. Her knee grazed his, sending a jolt of shivers through his body.

He nodded, tersely.

She rubbed his back in what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring fashion.

"We could always continue… you know. What they interrupted…" she said, softly, and he knew that she, too, was struggling against her own desire.

Remus closed his eyes. He barely trusted himself to speak as visions of precisely what he wanted to do to her chased around his mind.

"Ellie," he began, and took a steadying breath.

He _had_ intended to explain what was going on in his mind, and why even sitting this close together was such a bad idea tonight, and that they should _definitely _sit at opposite ends of the classroom until Lily and James had left, he really had…

She was looking over at him with that coy little smile on her lips, one eyebrow raised in inquiry, face still tinted with passion.

The wolf in him reared.

He was in front of her in a second, pressed between her dangling legs; he growled at her gasp of surprise, crushing his lips against hers, one hand on either side of her face. If she had been shocked at his sudden onslaught, she didn't let it faze her, instead taking the opportunity to run her hands down his torso; his embrace intensified as her fingers brushed across the skin of his stomach, briefly exposed as he shifted against her.

Again, he trailed kisses down her neck, this time heading purposefully lower. She flung her head back in pleasure as he nipped at her sensitive flesh…

"Remus?" Eleanor managed, breathing hard.

He forced himself to pull back slightly; hands still roving across her stomach and hips. She saw the tell-tale glimmer of amber in his eyes, but it was only a glimmer- he had said before that this was him with no self control, rather than his body under the control of the wolf.

She bit her lip as his fingers toyed with the buttons of her shirt, undoing them slowly, tortuously…

She was suddenly aware of a flicker of fear – not of him, never of him – but of herself, and of what they were about to do. It was plain enough that there would be no stopping him now, with the moon sapping his strength of will, urging him on; she was equally aware, with that sort of dizzy excitement that seizes you as you accept that something is now beyond your control, that she didn't _want _him to stop – more even, that she wouldn't try to stop him.

His fingers were clumsier now, fumbling with the lower buttons, and she guessed that he was equally amazed, equally fearful…

The look in his eyes suggested that he was falling, helplessly, and she wanted nothing more than to plunge with him, headlong, into the searing flames that accompanied his every caress.

Very deliberately, she moved her leg against his; he started, meeting her gaze, and she busied herself with the buttons on his shirt before leaning back slightly, wriggling against him restively.

Remus's hand was resting on her thigh, just as the point where the fabric of her skirt finished and her flesh began. He was staring at her, flushed and panting, grey eyes dark with lust; she understood that he was reining in the remnants of his self control to ask her permission.

Scooting forwards slightly, so that her whole body was pressed tightly against his, she kiss him fiercely, wantonly.

He got the message.

0o0o0o0

It was very nearly midnight when Sirius dragged himself back into the Gryffindor Tower. Peter had been right: despite the extra hour in bed the teachers were expecting more of them now than ever. Although he'd enjoyed the work, along with the accompanying banter and arsing about, he was exhausted and more than a little sore from all the fetching and carrying. Weird as it was abandoning Remus to the moon tonight, he couldn't help but be a bit grateful. He'd enjoy his sleep tonight; James and Peter were somewhere behind him, and he was looking forward to a long, hot shower.

When he emerged, dripping wet and much more relaxed, James and Peter were deep discussion in the corner of the room.

"Having a mothers' meeting?" he asked as he crossed the room, curious. Two pairs of worried eyes turned to face him. "What?"

"It's Eleanor…" said James slowly, as if he didn't really want to tell him.

"Is she ok?" Sirius asked, suddenly alert.

"I don't know – I don't think so…"

"She was fine earlier," said Sirius suspiciously – what weren't they telling him?

"We were walking back from the stage, me and Claire," said Peter, frowning. "And she was fine – laughing and joking with Lily and Alice – and then she went all quiet and just burst into tears."

Sirius stared at him. With two notable exceptions it was practically unknown for something to upset Eleanor.

"Did you ask what was going on?"

"Of course I did," said Peter, indignantly. "But the girls were intent on bundling her off back up here – I walked Claire back to her Common Room…"

"And she didn't say anything?" Sirius asked, frustrated.

"She did," said James, quietly.

"I heard her say something about…" Peter glanced at James, who shrugged helplessly. "Something about Moony… and betrayal… that's all I heard…"

Something dark and frightening coiled itself around Sirius's stomach.

"It doesn't make any sense," said Peter, miserably. "If he'd bit her or something she'd have been upset straight away…"

"Unless it was something the girls were talking about…" suggested James.

"They were just talking about the play, though…"

Sirius frowned deeply as his best friends tried unsuccessfully to guess the cause of Miss Wren's distress.

"He made a move," he snarled, and both heads snapped up. "He's been sniffing around her for the last few weeks – I've never seen him like that 'round a girl," he continued, "and he keeps acting all possessive."

James and Peter shared a look, both wondering precisely how Sirius had missed the last year's worth of sexual tension between their friends.

"And he wouldn't have the guts to ask her out – this being Moony – but tonight…"

All three boys turned to look at the outline of the moon, hidden for the moment behind a bank of wintry clouds.

"He made a move and she didn't want to know – he went too far – that's the only thing that would have upset her like that! He forced himself on her!"

"Can't fault your logic, mate," said James, unhappily.

"If he's hurt her-" he broke off, unable to articulate the anger coursing through him.

"Nothing we can do tonight, is there?" said Peter, carefully, aware that Sirius might try to do something monumentally stupid if left to his own devices. "I mean, we need to talk to him about it, and, well, we can't."

James nodded.

"We should sleep on it – the girls are looking after Eleanor, and Remus is probably tearing himself to shreds as we speak…"

Sirius glared at them both, though he knew they were right. He'd talk to Eleanor in the morning… and if he'd hurt her…

Angrily, he pulled on his pyjamas and flung himself down onto his bed, yanking the curtains closed after him.

Eleanor's face came to mind, tearful and pleading.

Remus Lupin was a dead man walking.

0o0o0o0

"But I don't understand," Alice was saying. "If you both wanted to –" she blushed, "– well, _you know_… then why –"

"Because it's full moon," said Eleanor thickly. She'd stopped crying now, and was increasingly annoyed at herself that she had in the first place. If you asked her, she couldn't have told you what it had been that had set her off, but something had…

The girls had stared at her in astonishment for a few seconds before taking an arm each and frog-marching her back to Gryffindor Tower. They were all sat on Eleanor's bed now, legs crossed amongst a mountain of squishy cushions that Lily and Alice had felt would help.

"He has absolutely no self control just before the full moon – you've seen him at dinner before," she continued and Lily nodded. "And I _know_ that, and I should have stopped him – I let him down – _I_ betrayed him!"

Alice and Lily shared a look over their friend's head.

"I don't think that's true," said Lily, slowly.

Eleanor looked up at her in confusion.

"But –"

"But nothing," her friend continued. "You said that that was Remus but with no self control."

"Yes…"

"And you both wanted this…"

"Yes," said Eleanor, colouring a little.

"And he didn't hurt you, or pressure you into something you didn't want…"

"Of course he didn't!"

"Then you're fine. You haven't let him down at all – so maybe this all happened a bit sooner than you'd intended. So what? You're both of age and willing. And you've decided that you'll be together whatever Sirius has to say about it."

Eleanor looked at her doubtfully.

"Do you think so?"

"_Yes_," said Lily firmly.

"She's right," said Alice. "You both got a little carried away, it happens. He'll understand – talk to him about it tomorrow."

Eleanor nodded, and pulled herself together a bit more.

"Ellie…" asked Alice, delicately. "What was it like?"

"Er –" she said, colouring right up to her hairline. Gods knew this conversation was embarrassing enough without going into details. "It was… good…?"

Lily was trying not to laugh, Eleanor could tell, but she wasn't about to drop her friend in it if she hadn't told Alice that her and James had taken the 'next step', as it were.

"Did it – you know – hurt?" Alice was leaning forward slightly, desperate, Eleanor realised, for useful information.

"A – bit, at first," she said. "But then it was just…"

"Good?"

"Well, clumsy and hilarious," she admitted, with a small smile, and Lily really did laugh this time. "But it rapidly got a lot better… and the fact is was Remus meant it was… I don't know. _Special_, I suppose." She smiled, shyly. "I take it you and Frank haven't –"

"Not as such," said Alice, and it was her turn to blush. "I mean, we've gone some of the way… but we want to wait until we're… comfortable with it."

"Very wise," said Eleanor, amused at the irony of her earlier tearfulness.

"How about you and James?" asked Alice, curious.

"Erm –" it was Eleanor's turn to laugh, Lily looked like a deer who had mistakenly thought that the truck had long since passed her. "Yes, actually…" She glared at Eleanor. "After that trip to the Lake…"

"Certainly a memorable evening," said Eleanor, smirking.

"And?" Alice prodded.

"Well it was – it was like Eleanor said, clumsy and really funny – we didn't really know what we were doing at first – and I got the giggles really badly…" she blushed, hotly. "But then it felt really, really good."

"Good enough to repeat?" Alice asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Lily's face was approximately the same shade as her hair now, and still deepening.

"A few times…"

"You know, Alice," observed Eleanor, amused. "When you and Frank finally _do_, we'll want to be informed – even if we've left Hogwarts and it's your wedding night."

Both girls laughed. "I'm not kidding," she continued. "I expect an owl, immediately afterwards, with a full evaluation and run down of the salient points."

0o0o0o0

Although the conversation with the girls had done much to allay her earlier misgivings, she was still restless, and lay awake for a long time after the light snores of her room-mates first emerged.

Huffing, she rolled over, giving up on the concept of sleep for the time being. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table: it was well past two in the morning… Everyone sensible would be very much asleep by now… and Remus would be out there on his own, pacing about and tearing at his own flesh…

Silently, she slipped out of her bed and pulled on her jeans and her jumper, grabbing a spare blanket from the wardrobe. It was disturbingly easy to slip out of the slumbering school and down the track to Hogsmeade, and easy enough to negotiate the village. The Shrieking Shack made a stark and unsettling outline on the November skyline, and with all the snarling and yelping emanating from within, she had no trouble whatsoever understanding the villagers' assumption that the house was haunted.

She froze, momentarily, as a mournful howl sounded into the night – he'd heard her feet crunching on the fallen leaves on the path. She walked around the Shack a couple of times, listening to the scrabbling and snarling as the creature inside tried to get closer to her. She knew he couldn't get at her, however. Dumbledore had made sure that he would never be a threat to anyone outside the hut – assuming they didn't try to follow him down the tunnel; unsurprisingly, Remus had refused to tell her where it began. Behind the wood and stone wall, something growled.

_At least I've distracted him from himself,_ she thought, and selected an area of wall that was sheltered from the chilly night wind. She hunkered down, resting her back against the scratchy walls of the Shack and pulled her blanket more tightly around herself. From the house behind her she heard him scratching and scraping at the walls; the noise was less threatening now. The werewolf seemed less intent on finding her and killing her than curious at her unusual presence.

She shifted, her foot causing a loud cascade of leaves down the path; there was a plaintive whining from the house behind her.

"I'm not going anywhere," said Eleanor, to the frosty night. There was a renewal in the volume of scrabbling. "And you can't get to me," she continued. The werewolf huffed, presumably in annoyance. "Hush."

She listened patiently as he began to pace back and forth, pads padding and claws clicking across the wooden floor. Tired as she hadn't been in the Gryffindor Tower, she yawned heavily and cast a warming spell on the blanket, snuggling up against the wall.

"I'm glad it's not raining," she mumbled, staring up into the vast canopy of stars above her. The pacing paused, and she heard him sniff at the wood on the other side of the wall; he was right behind her.

"I wish I could be in there with you," she said, softly, pressing a hand against the splintery wood.

The werewolf whined again, unhappily; she imagined him pressing a paw to the other side of the wall and chuckled to herself.

_One day, maybe_, she thought. _If someone could figure out a way for him to keep his mind._

She felt the wood behind her warm slightly as he settled down behind her, unwilling to abandon this strange new creature that he couldn't see or eat.

She modified the warming charm to fail in time for her to get back up to the Castle in the morning, and drifted off to sleep with the sound of the werewolf's breathing in her ears.


	24. Dress Rehearsal

'_Every Actor in his heart believes everything bad that's printed about him' – Orson Welles_

0o0o0o0

Remus was confused. He'd only awoken in the Shrieking Shack a handful of times, usually when Madame Pomfrey had had a busy evening; she liked to have him back in the Hospital Wing by the time the main school was awake. He stared at the ceiling above him, feeling tiny prinks and scratches from the dusty floorboards beneath him.

And that was another thing… he was usually groggy and shaking with pain… but today, although he ached and his skin stung in places, it wasn't _that_ bad…

He stretched experimentally: unusually, his limbs responded willingly, with only the slightest protests… He hauled himself to his feet, gingerly testing his legs.

This was _weird_.

He wrapped a ragged blanket around himself, grateful that this would be one occasion when the faithful Matron of Hogwarts wouldn't have to see him naked. Why was he in the hall of all places? He usually woke up in the splintered remains of what could have been a drawing room or a parlour…

His eyes traced the pattern of scratches and scores on the wall. He frowned; there were more in the area that he had gone to sleep than anywhere else, though as usual they were mending now, as Dumbledore had charmed them to…

He shook his head; the memories were there, and would surface when they wanted to, as they always did. He shuffled into the next room, shivering a little from the bitter cold outside, and sat on the long abandoned, stuffing-less chair that rested against the wall to wait for Madame Pomfrey.

There were things that he _did_ remember about the previous evening; things that were making him blush even now. Whatever guilt he felt about taking from Sirius what he might feel was his he pushed to one side, deciding to dwell on the positive sides of the experience.

He remembered how warm she was, pressed up against him, and the look in her eyes as they stared at one another in the darkness. She loved him. If he had any reason to doubt it before, (which he hadn't) he had none now. She loved him, and that was that. He smiled to himself, remembering the way her hair and skin had felt under his hands… the beautiful sounds she made… the way she smelled like home…

The way she smelled…

His head snapped up; he stared through the door at the spot where he'd woken up.

_Eleanor._

0o0o0o0

Sirius hadn't slept.

After hours of fuming he'd given up on the idea entirely and had simply got up again, pulled on some random clothes and went back into the Common Room. He'd thrown himself into the chair closest to the fire, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from stealing Remus's usual place, and sulked, waiting for the rest of the Tower to wake up.

It would be hours yet before Madame Pomfrey would release Remus and they could have their little heart-to-heart… he balled his hands into fists.

He'd been going over it again and again all night.

He hadn't thought his quiet friend had it in him to be so cruel – even unintentionally.

_Got that one wrong too, eh, Padfoot?_ he thought, savagely.

He glared at the fire.

He ought to have been watching more closely. Remus wouldn't have made a move unless he'd been brooding on it for a while – it had taken him _three years_ to pluck up the courage to talk to the pretty Ravenclaw he used to study with at the weekends… Which meant that Sirius had been completely oblivious to the usually bloody obvious signs… he wondered how long Remus had been mooning over her. From James and Peter's expressions the evening before, he'd wager that it had been quite some time since she'd caught his eye.

He tried to remember times when Remus hadn't been quite himself, which was difficult because Sirius hadn't really been himself for more than a year… He'd been a little standoffish around Valentines Day, he recalled, but Sirius had thought that it was his reserved friend's way of coping with publicly playacting all the way across Hogsmeade… And then there had been the way he'd acted at Christmas when she'd unwrapped the present Sirius had carefully found for her in one of the catalogues that Frank had been ordering camera supplies from… Or even the way he'd sulked his way through the Autumn Gala, nearly a year ago… when Sirius had asked Ellie to the ball and danced with her for most of the night… He'd rather lost track of things that night, given the proximity and willingness of Trixie, but he did remember seeing Moony prowling around the edge of the dance-floor looking ready to eat someone.

He hadn't thought that it might be him.

He felt a stab of guilt… he hadn't intended to hurt his friend…

But Remus _had_ hurt Eleanor…

And after everything she'd gone through before the summer!

She'd trusted him then… enough to go straight to him after her attack…

And somehow he had betrayed that trust.

He bit back a growl, settling for aiming a kick at an innocent cushion. It flew across the room and hit the back of the Fat Lady's portrait, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

Remus picked it up as he walked in.

"Did it do you some personal injury?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Sirius just stared at him. He looked just as exhausted as usual, but significantly more mobile; he was also a little twitchier than normal.

Remus stared back for a couple of seconds, then shrugged and turned away.

_Guilty conscience_, though Sirius, with grim satisfaction.

"You tell me," Sirius snarled.

Remus, who had been making his way up to the dormitories, turned back to him in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, gawping at his friend.

Sirius glared at him, gripping the arms of his chair.

"Where were you last night?"

Remus looked completely baffled, but he was beginning to get a little annoyed too, Sirius could tell. _Well, let him_, he thought, angrily.

"It was full moon, you tit, where do you think I was?"

"_Before that_," Sirius growled.

"In the Hospital Wing," Remus answered, shortly. He was still frowning, but Sirius had caught the flash of something in his expression, meaning that his friend wasn't telling him everything.

"And before _that_?"

"The same place you were!" Remus was controlling his expression carefully now, if Sirius hadn't known him as well as he did he would _never_ have spotted it.

"So!" spat Sirius, still managing to hang onto the chair and not floor the werewolf. "You weren't off making Ellie cry her eyes out then? Or was that someone else?" He saw the shock and momentary panic before Remus could cover them up; it looked like he was doing some very quick thinking.

How could he be so _callous_?

"I-"

But Sirius didn't let him finish. He'd seen enough to know that Remus had indeed crossed a line with Eleanor, and that he didn't care enough to be worried that everyone else knew it.

He launched himself out of the chair and across the room, getting the first few punches in before Remus had time to defend himself. He knocked his friend to the floor, expecting him to be weak from his transformation, but apparently Remus had recovered more quickly than usual. He threw Sirius off him, sending him flying into one of the big, squashy sofas and turning it over in the process.

Neither boy wasted any time, and by the time Sirius was on his feet and hurling hexes, Remus had charmed the stairs to the girls' dormitories and vaulted up them, re-charming them as he reached the top and having to duck a particularly nasty knee-reversal jinx.

Sirius, not to be thwarted, hurled jinx after jinx at his former best friend, interspersed with a spattering of more mundane curses.

Remus blocked most of them, finally managing to get a silencing charm through the crackling barrage of magic.

0o0o0o0

The seventh year girls' dormitory was roused by shouting and the unmistakeable crack and fizz of jinxes bouncing off their door.

The three of them were on their feet and had their wands out in seconds, at which point Eleanor promptly fell over, since her haste had tangled her legs up in the blankets from the night before.

Lily stuck her head around the side of the door and had to beat a hasty retreat as a rebounding hex smacked into the wood, inches from her face. She swore.

Alice managed to get fully out into the corridor before one of Sirius's stray jinxes flew past her and she leaped out of the way, sending jinxes and blocking charms down the stairs. Remus, who had flung himself to the floor to avoid the worst of it, scrambled towards the open door and got behind it, helping Lily to keep up a counter-offensive. Even silenced, Sirius knew enough non-verbal spells to make life awkward.

It was Lily that got him, in the end. She hit him with a full body bind that span him around with its force and left him face down in the common room.

Alice pushed Remus further into their dormitory as Lily addressed the corridor at large – heads were popping out on all sides, tousle-headed girls staring blearily out at the commotion.

"It's alright, ladies. Just Sirius-bloody-Black deciding we need to be woken up at gods-forsaken-o'clock in spectacular fashion this morning. Feel free to take your feelings out on him later…"

Eleanor, meanwhile, had managed to get untangled, though Alice was still sniggering at her.

"What the hell was that about?" asked Lily, closing the door behind her.

"Fuck if I know," said Remus, probably more strongly than he'd intended.

Alice gave him a Look, then made him sit down on Eleanor's bed.

"He just went mental and started hitting me," he said, huffily, glancing at Eleanor, who bit her lip. This could be a problem.

"And you're sure you have no idea what it was about?" asked Lily, hands on hips. Even in her pale pink pyjamas and still a little bleary with sleep she still made rather a terrifying figure.

Remus had the good grace to look shifty.

"He said… he said I'd upset Eleanor…" he turned, quickly. "I didn't, did I?"

Eleanor gave him a weak grin that did absolutely nothing for his self-confidence.

"Let me heal those bruises," she said, and got out the dittany, turning him to face her. Alice and Lily, recognising this as a couple-thing, busied themselves with making their beds and brushing their hair and finding bits of uniform.

He had a nasty welt forming on his right cheek and around his eye, and a deep cut on his lower lip was oozing blood.

"Why is it that whenever we leave you boys to your own devices someone ends up injured?" she muttered, brushing drops of dittany across his face.

"I didn't upset you, did I?" he repeated, in a low voice.

Eleanor avoided his eyes.

"I did?"

"Stop moving about."

He caught her hand as she went to heal his lip.

"Ellie…"

"You didn't upset me," she said. "Now, can you hold still so I can heal your lip?"

"Sirius said you were crying… after we," he cocked his head. "You _know_…"

Eleanor sighed.

"I was…" She still wasn't meeting his eyes, and it was really beginning to worry him.

"Was it… didn't you want to –" he stammered, clearly in some distress. _Was I _that _bad?_ he thought, miserably.

Lily, who had been eavesdropping, decided to intercede.

"She wanted to, you wanted to, stop panicking."

"Lily!" admonished Eleanor, shocked; Remus went crimson.

"You _told_ them?" he hissed, eyes wide.

"We made her," said Lily, matter-of-factly. "She was sobbing all over the place."

"She _was_? You _were_?" Remus looked as though he didn't know who to gawp at first. Eleanor had turned a bright scarlet, clashing horribly with her lover's face.

"And from what I hear, I should be taking points from you, young man," Lily grinned, impishly; somewhere in the back of the room, Alice giggled.

Remus looked up at Lily in plain incredulity.

"I could be saying precisely the same thing to you, young lady," he said, and Lily's grin began to fade. "History of Magic corridor, around six o'clock?"

Lily's mouth formed a perfect 'o'; Alice dropped whatever it was she had been doing and hurried over.

"_That's_ where you were? You were with _James_?" she looked rather like Christmas had come early.

Lily cleared her throat.

"I'm – er – going for a shower…" she said, grabbing her uniform.

"Wait for me!" cried Alice, gleefully, following her friend into the bathroom at high speed.

Eleanor's eyes met his as the bathroom door slammed, and they both burst out laughing.

"Well that was effective," he managed, calming down a little. "Did you _have_ to tell them?" he asked, ruefully. He wasn't annoyed as such, just a little surprised.

"They're really rather persuasive… and as Lily said, I was quite upset."

He frowned again, laying a hand on her arm.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, but I suspect I should…"

Remus winced; that really didn't sound good.

"…can't have you getting all paranoid on me, can I?" she smiled, though he noted that it didn't quite meet her eyes. He waited for her to continue.

"Last night was…" she frowned, searching for the words. "Wonderful," she said firmly. "And something I'd rather like to do again…"

He couldn't help it, he started to grin, and she smiled back at him, properly this time.

"Definitely," he said, and she chuckled.

"Yes… but last night was also full moon…"

"I – I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, suddenly afraid. "I recall being quite…" he blushed harder. "Enthusiastic…"

"No – no, nothing like that… I…" she took a deep breath. "Enthusiastic is good… I just know how you are on full moon, and I should have been stronger – it was my responsibility to stop us doing anything potentially foolish, and I didn't. I let you down."

"No! No you didn't – really," he said. "Ok, so maybe we should have waited another week, but we've been fighting this for too long – you haven't let anyone down – certainly not me!"

"Really? But –"

"No arguments, you've been nothing but lovely… a little infuriating at times," he allowed, and she gave him a playful shove.

"It's still probably the most interesting thing that's ever happened in the History of Magic classroom."

Remus snorted.

"I don't know, James set fire to his desk in third year, to see if that would make any impression on Professor Binns."

"Did it?"

"No, he didn't even stop talking. A few people got singed though."

Eleanor laughed.

"That sounds like James all right."

He pulled her into his lap.

"I wish we could have stayed together all night," she said, into his chest, helpfully reminding him of the other thing they really needed to talk about.

"Ellie," he said, pushing her away gently. "You were outside the Shrieking Shack last night, weren't you?"

"Yes," she said, and it was her turn to look shifty.

"You _can't_ do that," he said, urgently. "Ever. If I got out –"

"The walls are about four foot thick!" argued Eleanor. "With probably even more protective spells on them than the Chalet!"

"That's not the point!" he continued, hotly.

"_I_ think it is! I heard you in there, and you stopped trying to break everything in sight and followed me around the Shack instead – you couldn't get out, and there's no way I could get in –"

Remus looked like he would very much like to disagree, but was prevented by the sudden arrival of Claire, who didn't look remotely like his presence was much of a surprise. He shot Eleanor a suspicious glance as Claire yawned.

"Sorry," she said. "It's a bit early for me…"

"For all of us," said Eleanor. "I take it you've heard about our new alarm clock then?"

The other girl nodded.

"I've been summoned to act as a mediator. Apparently Peter and James are quite worried…" she looked at the way they were sat. "I take it that whatever Sirius has been raging on about is a load of rubbish?"

"I think he got the wrong end of the stick…" said Eleanor.

"He pretty much just up and punched me," said Remus, indicating his lip. The cut was beginning to stop bleeding now, and Eleanor took the opportunity to attack him with the dittany while he wasn't paying attention.

"Ow!"

"Give it a moment or two…"

He huffed at her and Claire laughed.

"I'm going to assume that you two are still being foolishly secretive?" she asked, eyes sparkling.

"We were going to sort it all out after the Gala," Remus mumbled, torn between embarrassment and annoyance.

"Right, then. I'll go and talk to the boys – don't worry about a thing!" she announced, and left.

"She's chirpy of a morning," Eleanor observed.

"How many people know about us? I mean, whatever we are…"

"I think now we're sort of secret lovers," Eleanor said, and laughed. "I'm living up to that Regency romance background again."

"You didn't answer the question," Remus pointed out, smiling a little.

"Oh, well, Lily and Alice rumbled us at the start of the summer, and they told Claire… and I think Severus knows – or at least he knows we'd like to be…" she grimaced. "I did _try_ not to tell them, but they're –"

"Persistent, yes…"

"They know about Sirius, too."

He looked at her, and broke out into a slow but brilliant smile.

"You know what? I really love that they know – we don't have to pretend in front of them."

He watched as Eleanor's smile matched his and he held her tightly.

"I wish you'd let me stay outside the Shack," she said, softly. "You're so much better than usual this morning – hardly any scratches at all."

Conceding that she had a point, he thought about how much trouble there would be if they boys came and let him out and she was out there. Even if he _did_ keep more of his mind with them around…

"You have to promise me that you won't do it again," he said, gently. "I can't stand the thought of hurting you – I mean, if I bit you…"

"Alright," she said, sighing. "I promise. I just don't like the thought of you being out there all alone."

_You have no idea_, he thought.

"Remind me that there's something important I need to tell you," he said, into her hair. "After all of this mess is sorted out."

0o0o0o0

Claire knocked on the door to the Gryffindor boys' Common Room, smiling at the surprise of a huddle of first year boys, who hadn't expected to see an invading Hufflepuff this side of breakfast.

Peter opened the door, looking worried, and hustled her inside. They'd tied Sirius to one of the bedposts to stop him leaping out and renewing his assault on the girls' dormitory, and she couldn't help but laugh at him. He gave her a murderous look.

"Well?" asked Peter. "What did they say?"

"Remus has no idea whatsoever what's going on," she said, eyeing Sirius, who had redoubled his efforts to escape at this announcement.

"Really?" asked James, hopefully.

"Really," she confirmed. "And he's a bit miffed at being randomly assaulted first thing in the morning – as are the girls, by the way," she added, for Sirius's benefit. "The ones I saw were looking fairly mutinous, I'd watch yourself."

Sirius was, by now, purple with rage. Claire ignored him.

"And Eleanor?" asked Peter, frowning.

"She seems just as bewildered as everyone else," she told them. "She's healing Remus up as we speak."

There was an uncomfortable silence in which no-one except Claire would look at Sirius. She watched in fascination as his complexion swiftly changed from puce to very pale cream.

"Did you actually _speak_ to Remus before hitting him?" she asked, quietly.

The look of horror on Sirius's face suggested that no, he hadn't.

"So you decided, without asking anyone what was going on, that your best friend of six years had suddenly turned into some kind of ravening monster," she paused. "Other than a werewolf - completely ignoring the past six years where I know as well as you he hasn't so much as _dreamed_ of hurting anyone, let alone being – how was it Peter put it? Sexually inappropriate? With one of his best friends?"

Sirius looked more and more wretched with every word; James was very wisely keeping out of it, while Peter stared at his girlfriend in unabashed admiration.

"You lurked in the Common Room until he came back from the Hospital Wing," she continued. "The _Hospital Wing_! Where he usually stays until tea-time on days like this, given that his body has just torn itself to pieces and put itself back together _twice in the one night_! What were you _thinking_?"

Claire seemed to be getting louder with each point she made, and all three of the boys were wincing each time. It was quite something to see the usually quiet Hufflepuff _this_ angry, and Sirius was staring at her as if hypnotised.

"How _dare_ you assume someone's guilt? What gives you the right to just haul off and attack someone? Of all the stupid, arrogant, infuriating things you've ever done, Sirius, this one takes the sodding biscuit!" She pushed her long brown hair out of her eyes, angrily; he was still just sitting there and taking her tirade. Granted, he was still tied up, but he was also looking chastened and horrified. "I only hope for your sake that Remus can find it in him to forgive you," she finished, and turned on her heel.

_That ought to do it_, she thought, as she headed back into the Common Room.

Peter caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Claire –"

"What?" she snarled, spinning around. Her face softened. "Sorry."

"S'ok," said Peter, once he'd fought the urge to flee. "I just wanted to say: that was magnificent!"

Claire blushed slightly, and Peter grinned.

"Really – me and James wouldn't have been able to say it and he needed to hear it. He can be a real arse sometimes," he admitted. "Thank you."

Claire smiled and dimpled prettily, and Peter took the opportunity to steal a kiss.

"Eleanor's alright, though?" he asked, as they broke apart.

"Yes, she's fine," Claire grinned. "I haven't heard the full story yet, but I think it was probably just show nerves." It was surprisingly easy to lie on someone else's behalf, but it still gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She decided that once all of this was done with she'd tell him everything.

"Claire…" Peter asked, frowning. "Do you know if Eleanor fancies… someone?"

The question caught her off-guard, but she could always claim not to know.

"Like who?"

"Oh, I don't know… Sirius? Remus? Severus?"

"_Severus_?" asked Claire, laughing. "Well I know she doesn't fancy _him_… she keeps mentioning that he fancies someone and we keep trying to guess who."

"Really? Any luck?"

"No."

"Oh."

"And I don't know about the other two. I mean, she's close to both of them, but I think she trusts Remus more…"

"So if she has to choose between them…"

"If she _has_ to choose, she'll go for Remus. _If_ she has to choose. But why would she have to?"

Peter gave her a sideways look that told her that, contrary to popular belief, some of the boys had been paying attention.

"You _have_ to have seen the way they act around her," he said.

"Well, _yes_, but who's to say she won't choose someone else?" she asked, testing the water.

Peter looked at her oddly.

"You know, don't you?"

Claire bit her lip. She couldn't lie to him.

"You can't tell anyone – even James – but I don't think we'll need to worry about anything after next Sunday."

He gave her a Look, and she realised that James and Peter had been trying to prevent some kind of massive fallout for some time. Really, it was only fair that they had some warning; Eleanor would understand. Eventually.

"Except possibly Sirius," she said, quietly.

Peter nodded.

"I won't say anything. It's just… I don't think he'll take it well."

"No, neither do I."

They looked at one another, both fervently glad that their romance had been much simpler.

"It'll be alright," said Peter, though he sounded a little bit like he was trying to convince himself.

0o0o0o0

"Where the hell is Sirius?" James asked the world at large. "We'll be starting in ten minutes!"

He was struggling to get his costume boots on while still standing up – there were rather a lot of nervous young men trying to do the same and they were already taking up all the available sitting space.

"He wasn't at dinner either," said Frank, trying to make his beard look more dignified.

"Should we be worried?" asked Eleanor, passing out swords.

"I don't know," said James, frowning deeply. "I haven't seen him like this since…" he glanced at Severus.

"Since he tried to make me into Remus's dinner?" Severus asked, tersely. His stage nerves were kicking in and he was rapidly returning to his much surlier self.

Eleanor and Frank stared at him.

"He _what_?"

"Look, there's no time to go into it now," said Peter, who appeared to be acting as a natural mediator even off the stage. "Let's talk about it tomorrow."

Eleanor nodded, uncertainly. At least she knew why they hadn't got on when she had arrived.

"There he is," Frank said, frowning. "He looks awful."

"So he should," mumbled Remus, who had taken the morning's fight very personally (and anyway, his jaw still _really_ hurt).

"I'll go," said Eleanor, gathering up Sirius's costume. She caught him by the arm and hustled him behind a screen. "You're late," she said, tersely. "No arguments. Clothes off."

Sirius did as he was told, not meeting her eyes and barely looking around; he didn't even make a lewd comment.

"No jokes either," she added, but she needn't have bothered. He had none of his usual bonhomie.

Once he had his boots on he stood completely still, as if he wasn't really there; Eleanor had given him an evil goatee and wrapped a sword belt around his waist before he made any kind of move.

She watched his eyes follow someone – presumably Remus – wander past. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was a lot more tousled than she'd ever seen it.

"Sirius?"

He didn't respond, and Eleanor decided that desperate measures were required. She ran her hands through his hair, making it much more presentable. He didn't even flinch.

Really rather worried now, Eleanor took his arms and shook him firmly; that got his attention. His eyes slid to meet hers, and she saw how very unhappy he was.

"I know today has been rough –"

He gave a hollow laugh.

"But you have to get through this rehearsal. If you don't put everything into it you'll be letting us all down."

He frowned.

"I've already done that."

"A misunderstanding that we can talk about tomorrow," she said firmly. "Tonight you're Don John, not Sirius. Deal with it tomorrow."

He nodded, miserably.

"When did you last sleep?" she asked.

"I had a sleep this afternoon," he mumbled.

"But nothing before then?"

He shook his head.

"And when did you last eat?"

"Yesterday."

Eleanor winced. They'd be lucky if he didn't pass out.

She cast around for inspiration, and found it amongst the gaggle of curious onlookers that the cold hadn't quite driven away.

Her pigtails were quite as erratic this year, as if she'd begun to grow into them.

"Olivia!" she called, and the second year in question detached herself from her friends and hurried over, curiously. "Do you want a secret mission?" Eleanor asked, with a grin.

0o0o0o0

"You don't have to do this," said Sirius, somewhat embarrassed.

"Yes I do," Olivia insisted, waving a plate full of food under his nose in the 'interval'. "Eleanor set me a secret mission." She grinned, mischievously. "And now I know how to get into the kitchen, and no one else in my year does."

Sirius managed a half smile at that.

"Looking to be a trouble maker?" he asked.

"Absolutely. When you lot leave, there will be a mischief vacuum. I intend to fill it," she grinned, through her freckles.

"I would keep friends with you lady," he chuckled, then added: "it's from the play," on her puzzled look. "Well, thanks," he continued. "Really. I didn't think anyone would help me after this morning."

"What actually happened? All I heard was explosions."

"I… misinterpreted a situation and tried to kill my best friend," he said, miserably. "I was exceptionally stupid. As usual."

"Did you manage it?"

"No, thank Merlin." Then: "Don't you think you'd have heard by now if one of the other students was dead?"

"In Hogwarts? My brother got locked in the Quidditch store-room for a week last year and only me and his room-mates noticed. And Professor Binns has never noticed that _he's_ dead. I mean, that would be fairly high on my list of things to notice."

"You have a point," he conceded.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"No," he gave a hollow chuckle. "I don't think he'll ever speak to me again. It's not the first time I've messed up."

"He'll come around."

"I don't think so. You know, I've been trying to fight it all my life but I can't seem to stop myself becoming the villain in everything I do. I'm a Black – it's in the blood."

"I don't think that's true," said Olivia, speculatively. "I mean, you can be a bit of an idiot sometimes –"

"Thanks."

"But you're a boy, that's what boys do. You don't do it all the time, either. You're like my brother, Corin. He's a bit of an idiot some of the time, but he always comes through when I need it. You're a nice person, really."

Sirius stared at her.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes," she nodded, emphatically. "You'll be ok – and your friend will come around. It might take a while, but if he's really your friend then he'll forgive you – particularly because it was a misunderstanding."

He looked at the girl in front of him. He vaguely remembered her from the year before – possibly in possession of a tiny purple Pigmy Puff. Clearly, Olivia was one to watch. And she had no idea what she'd just done for him.

"Thanks, Olivia."

"No worries. Drink your coffee, it'll go cold."


	25. Opening Night

'_Opening night is the night __**before**__ the play is ready' – George Jean Nathan_

0o0o0o0

Saturday the 30th of November, 1976, dawned bright, clear and unbelievably tense. The seventh years were due to go through the play one more time in the morning, then have the afternoon off to 'relax' and to show their parents around the Castle. The last minute preparations, they were assured, could wait until after their early dinner.

There were more than a few pale and drawn faces around the Great Hall at breakfast time, silently going over lines, or cues, or mentally cataloguing props or going over seating plans; many of them were also becoming surlier and more terse as time ticked onwards. Given the occasion, hardly anyone was sat at their house tables, and had formed a sort of multicoloured collective at the ends of all four. It gave the players the opportunity to glean ten more minutes peace before the chaos of the day.

Sirius had chosen to place himself as far away from Remus as was possible, which meant that he was on the far side of the stage crew. According to Peter, they hadn't spoken at all the previous evening, Sirius hiding behind his bed-curtains until Remus had fallen asleep.

Eleanor sighed. In many ways, she felt that life couldn't get much more complicated than this. In hindsight, this was something of an underestimation of the opening night of a show.

"Here," said a light and lilting voice, breaking Eleanor out of her contemplations. It was Priscilla Flowers of Slytherin; Eleanor hadn't had much to do with her until the end of the previous term (with the exception of the brief skirmish outside of Gladrags on Valentines Day), but Priscilla, along with the other Slytherins, had been proving herself to be above her reputation of late.

"The finished programmes – we all get one, for our sins," she grinned as she handed them around. "Buck up, you lot. You were smashing last night, it'll be brilliant."

Eleanor gave her a small, queasy smile, and opened her copy of the programme. There they all were, looking as in-character as they could… she smiled in earnest at some of her classmates middle names. She laughed. Sirius was thoughtfully twirling the moustache of his goatee of evil.

"Why've they got our houses listed?" she asked.

"For the parents that think that sort of thing matters," said Priscilla, in a tone that suggested that she no longer did, and moved off to distribute programmes to the next table.

Carefully, Eleanor refolded the parchment and put it safely in her satchel; she strongly suspected that this was an event that she would never forget.

0o0o0o0

The final rehearsal did nothing for anyone's spirits except for the staff, who assured their miserable students that an appalling last rehearsal more or less guaranteed a perfect show – not least because the cast and crew were terrified of screwing it up a second time in one day.

A quick bite to eat later and they were all hustled outside once more to meet their parents and guardians. Professor McGonagall appeared to have been collecting them in the village since they all ascended the hill together; there was a strange shift from an entire lack of visitors to people laughing and hugging on all sides. Even Mrs Snape had turned up, looking much healthier and more dignified than she had at the beginning of the summer. Severus looked astonished, but rushed to greet her with the rest of the students, and quickly introduced her to the others.

The Lupins gave her a friendly wave, but Eleanor was busily fending off the affections of her housekeepers, and could spare only a nod and a smile, which they returned happily.

"You are looking well Cherie!" cried Estelle, hugging her tightly. "You and your friends are ready for tonight?"

"Now, now, Estelle, we shall not speak of it. Ah, Severus – you are well?"

"Yes, monsieur, thank you," he replied. "Nervous about tonight. I'd like to introduce my mother – this is Henrì and Estelle," he smiled, slightly. "This is my mother, Eileen."

Estelle nodded, smiling warmly; Eileen looked a little uncertain at the appearance of so many people who were aware of her and her son's plight, but she needn't have worried.

"It is _wonderful_ to meet you Madame," said Henrì, shaking her hand with such flair that Eileen laughed.

"You have had a safe journey, I trust?" she managed, and Eleanor noticed that she had Severus's quiet tones.

"Oh yes, though it is further than we 'ave travelled for some time, I 'ave to say," said Estelle, cheerfully. "But for a good cause. The entertainment promises to be great a spectacle, and that will make up for it."

Eleanor rolled her eyes, and Estelle noticed, clearly deciding to wind her young charge up while the chance presented itself.

"And Eleanor and Severus are certain to play their parts beautifully."

Both of them scowled.

"Estelle," admonished Henrì, chuckling. "Leave then alone. Now, mon petit roitelet, you will show us this school that you rave about? Bon."

They wandered off in the general direction of the greenhouses as Eleanor and Severus chattered on about lessons and acquaintances and the dreaded play, and before long the vast majority of their classmates were behind them, each conducting their own personal tours of the school. All except one.

She spotted Sirius skulking off as James led his parents enthusiastically towards the Quidditch pitch, gesticulating wildly.

0o0

She left them peering, with great interest, into the workings of the Clocktower, naming a remembered errand. She whispered her intentions to Severus and made for the Astronomy Tower, hoping fervently that no one was currently showing it off to a family member.

She found Sirius leaning on the brass rail encircling the upper level of the Tower, despondently watching the small clusters of family still bumbling across the grounds in the waning afternoon light. He turned to look at her as she came in, and turned back to the view, sadly. Eleanor joined him at the railing, though neither of them spoke for some time.

"Are you alright?" she asked, finally.

"What do _you_ think?"

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Yes," and to her surprise, he gave a dry chuckle. "I think if I hadn't, little Olivia would have knocked me out. She's a bit scary, actually."

"That's why I like her," said Eleanor, with a wry smile.

"It's just… hard. Seeing everyone else with their families."

"I can imagine," she said, softly. She moved closer to him, linking her arm with his for the sake of comfort. "Have you spoken to Remus?"

He shook his head.

"'S not like he'd talk to me anyway – I mean, what kind of friend attacks you with no explanation? I was so _sure_ – and that's the worst part of it. That I could think that of him…"

Eleanor could tell from his voice that he was nearly in tears.

"What _did_ you think he'd done?" she asked, careful not to glance at him, lest his courage fail him. "That was never really mentioned."

"I… I thought he'd… I thought he'd hurt you."

"He'd never hurt me," said Eleanor. "You know that."

"I should have. But, I thought…"

"What?"

"I just didn't want you to be hurt, that's all," he said, firmly, and Eleanor could tell he didn't want her to know.

"That's very noble of you, but I can take care of myself."

"I know… but you're my friend. One of my best friends."

She gave his arm a squeeze.

"Whatever it was you thought he'd done to hurt me must have been pretty spectacular for you to go off like that…"

"I thought that maybe he'd behaved… inappropriately. You know what he's like around full moon – I thought he'd – I don't know… _forced_ himself onto you. And I do realise how ridiculous that sounds now…"

Eleanor fought the urge to stare at him.

"But this is _Remus_ we're talking about."

"Yeah, but he's not very good at not taking what he wants at that time of the month… and I think he likes you," he said, quietly. "A lot."

Eleanor stiffened.

"You do?"

"Yes." He turned to her and leaned back against the rail. "But he'll probably never do anything about it. Can't believe it took me this long to notice it… I think he's had his eye on you since before last year's Gala."

"Unbelievable…" murmured Eleanor, truthfully.

"I've not really been noticing much, though, to tell you the truth."

He told her about his family troubles, which she'd guessed, and about his brother the acolyte-of-evil, which she never could have imagined. Though he was polite to a fault, Regulus had always been a bit distant, but she'd put that down to her friendship with his hated elder brother.

"So I've had a lot on my mind…" he finished, wearily. "And now it looks like I've fucked up my friendship with Remus for good."

"As various people keep telling you, _talk to him_," she prodded him with each word.

"Ow."

"Well then."

"I don't want to," he said, flatly. "Because if I do, he'll tell me precisely what he thinks of me – which will be a good deal more accurate than my recent opinion of him… and then he'll never speak to me again."

Eleanor huffed.

"No, I mean it – I've already had one chance, which I ruined a long time ago."

"Yes, James mentioned something about you trying to feed him a midnight snack."

"Not my finest hour," he admitted, looking wretched. "It was unbelievably stupid of me… not to mention dangerous. I betrayed him Ellie, and he said that if I did it again, that was it. No more friendship. So what do I do? Hit him."

Eleanor was beginning to have had enough.

"I think you're being quite childish about it," she said, and he looked at her oddly. "You're both better men than you're giving yourselves credit for, and I wish you could see that."

"I wish I could too," he chuckled, darkly. "Then I might have a chance with-" he looked up at her, abruptly.

She couldn't help but wince.

"Still no further on, then?" she asked, though, of course, she already knew the answer.

"No… and I was right – I don't deserve her."

He sat down beneath the great planetary spheres that lazily orbited the large brass, sun in the centre of the room.

"I'm still mucking things up. I thought if I stuck with the play, and I kept trying to be a good man, instead of just…"

"Loki's secret weapon?"

"Ye- Loki?"

"Norse god – brought fire to humans. Prone to mischief – not always the funny kind."

"Huh. Good analogy. Yes… I thought if I could just keep everything moving along without a hitch, I'd be ok – I've even been talking to her a bit more, and she doesn't seem to mind…"

Eleanor's ear pricked up at this; that didn't sound right.

"She doesn't?"

"No – and she's even being more friendly. I was going to ask her out after the Gala tonight, but I've more than proved that I'm not right for her."

"I think she should be the judge of that," she said gently, fighting the urge to shake him and ask her name. Had they been wrong all this time?

"But what if I hurt her?" he blurted.

"Then she will have been hurt. I know you Sirius, you might not think before you act all the time – and Gods know how much trouble that can get you in – but your heart's in the right place. You're a great friend, and you'd make a kind, sweet, loyal lover if you chose to turn your hand to a life of monogamy."

He looked up at her, hope and misery shining in his eyes. She clung to the slim chance that they had been wrong, and Sirius had fallen for someone else entirely, and had been being unhelpfully cryptic for the last year.

"People have to make their own decisions, Sirius. What if, secretly, she'd mad about you, but doesn't dare to act on it because she doesn't think _you_ like _her_? Then she'll be just as miserable as you are."

"But she smiles all the time…"

"So do you."

He squinted up at her.

"Look, it doesn't matter how you paint it, Ellie, I'm just not good enough for Dorothy. I'll just fuck up like I always do, and then –"

"Dorothy?" she squeaked.

"Yes," he said, surprised at himself for saying it.

"_Dorothy Cottingley_?" she repeated. "From Ravenclaw?"

"Yes…" he frowned. If he were honest, he was a little startled by her reaction.

"The Dorothy Cottingley that enchanted a pair of pink, fluffy slippers to harass you for a week because you laughed at her?"

"That's the one…"

"The Dorothy Cottingley that hangs out in the library in all of her spare time, and thinks that pranking is a complete waste of time?"

"Well, actually, she thinks they're hilarious, she just tries not to show it – wants to set a good example," he said, with a confidence that suggested that this was something she'd actually said to him, and wasn't just part of his fevered and hopeful imagination. "Anyway," he frowned. "What's wrong with her?"

Eleanor was staring at him, wide eyed in the gathering dusk.

"Nothing!" she cried, looking quite mad. "Absolutely nothing!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, standing up and taking her by the arm. "Ellie, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" she said brightly. "Absolutely wonderful, in fact! I – er – just remembered – there's something I have to do!"

"It can't wait?" he asked, alarmed.

"No! I've been putting it off you see –" and with that, she kissed him, soundly. "Ask her out."

"What?" he sputtered, astonished.

"_Ask her the fuck out_!" she shouted, over her shoulder. "Sorry! Somewhere I need to be!"

He watched her go, gobsmacked.

0o0

His parents having joined the larger group feasting in the Great Hall, Remus was lounging on his bed, working on portraying an outward appearance of calm.

Or, failing that, not being sick.

Nothing seemed to work. Whatever he tried to distract himself with was entirely overshadowed by the horrific, overwhelming, terrifying knowledge that within the next two hours he would be walking onto a stage and making a complete arse of himself in front of a ridiculously large number of people. Most of whom knew him.

_And some of whom_, his mind helpfully supplied, _will be responsible for whether or not I get a job in the next few years._

He swallowed, and cast around the room for a distraction.

Padfoot was still nowhere to be found, and honestly, right now he'd rather tell him every detail of his and Eleanor's sordid little affair than even think about going on stage. James was playing with that ridiculous snitch of his, and mumbling lines to himself; he looked a little green himself, which cheered Remus up a bit. Peter was pacing. It was what he did when he was worried about something; there was no point trying to stop him, no matter how annoying it became – he'd only start tapping his foot or clicking his fingers, and that was somehow more infuriating. At least pacing was largely non-audible.

He had just decided to simply give up and try to find distraction on the inside of his eyelids when the door smacked open. He watched, fascinated, as it bounced off the wall in the wake of his beautiful Eleanor, who lost no time whatsoever and flung herself on top of him, not even pausing for breath before kissing him soundly.

"Wha-?" he managed, coming up for air.

"It's not me," she said, and kissed him again.

"What's – not – you?" he asked, between kisses.

"Sirius," she held him steady to make sure that he'd understand. "_It's not me_."

Caught between delight and exasperation she watched comprehension dawn across his face.

"It's – oh! _Oh_!"

He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, hands tangling in her hair, only vaguely aware that Peter and James were still in the room; they were both stood staring at them, jaws slack with shock.

James coughed, awkwardly.

"Prongs –" said Remus, barely even pausing. "I love you mate – but fuck off."

"Wha-?" James sputtered.

"Fuck off!" Remus repeated, pushing Eleanor onto her back (which didn't take much, since she was already practically on top of him) and recapturing her beautiful lips.

Presumably Peter had dragged his speechless friend out of the dormitory, as there was the sound of a door shutting. They both ignored it.

"All this time," he said, when they came up for air. "We could have been doing this for over a _year_!"

"I know!" moaned Eleanor, nuzzling her face into his neck. "I was such a fool – thinking it was me he wanted!"

"We both did," said Remus, fairly, brushing his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss. "And besides, who _wouldn't_ want you?"

She laughed at the irony of it all; he could feel it through his own stomach, pressed against hers, where it belonged.

"Sirius, apparently!" she laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Who was it, then?"

"You're never going to believe me," Eleanor said, incredulously. "Dorothy!"

"Dorothy _Cottingley_?"

"Yes!"

He stared at her.

"From Ravenclaw?"

"Yes!"

"Sweet Merlin!"

"Shh," she said, playfully. "Less talking, more kissing."

He recaptured her lips with fervour, putting all the frustration of the last year into his tongue and roving hands. She sighed beneath him, responding to every movement with equal passion.

Neither of them heard the door open, busy as they were, but they did hear the crack that came out of the end of Lily's wand. They looked up from the bed, stunned. She had a hand over her eyes.

"I've got my eyes shut," she said, helpfully. "Look, we're all really happy for you both, but there's about five minutes left before we need to go down to the stage and James needs his shoes…"

"We're not naked, or anything," said Remus, sitting back and allowing Eleanor to sit up.

Lily cracked an eye behind her fingers and, seeing that all was well, she lowered her hand.

"Alright," she called down to James. "You can come up now."

Remus turned to her as they walked hand-in-hand down the stairs together, both still blushing fiercely, and beamed.

"I think you've cured my stage fright."

0o0o0o0

He'd changed into his costume quickly, taking advantage of his new-found calm. He let a pale and shaky Alice give him a light beard before he gave her a tight hug.

"You'll be fine, Alice, you're really good at this."

"Thanks…" she gave him a smile that was closer to a grimace. "You too, Remus. Who knew we had this in us?"

"The teachers apparently," rumbled Wilbur Crabbe, piling up his armour for the later scenes. "It's a lot more fun that I thought it would be," he said, cheerily.

Despite himself, Remus had to agree. Beside him, Eleanor put the finishing touches to Severus's 'long beard of wisdom', as Frank called it.

"Anyone presentable?" called Professor Sprout. "We need some bodies to show off to the Minister of Magic and his guests." She looked around at the general lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, come on you lot, does no-one want to meet famous wizards these days? There's the head of the Quidditch League and the French Minister of Magic out there – and his charming wife."

The noise of Eleanor backing into Wilbur's pile of armour was covered by James, who had fought his way to the front on the mention of the Quidditch League, but Remus met her eyes.

"Ah, Mr Potter… well if you promise to behave, I suppose – and you _are_ Head Boy," she said, turning. "And Miss Roberts?"

"Ellie –" he said, but she'd already started running. She dodged through the changing students, nearly knocking Lily off her feet, and dove into the newly erected prop store. Over the mild chaos her flight had caused, he heard the lock click into place.

He made his mind up in an instant.

"What –?" began Severus, but Remus waved him away.

"Try to get her out," he told him. "Professor, I'll come too, if you want."

Professor Sprout turned and took him in.

"Of course, Mr Lupin. That costume suits you," she said, speculatively.

"Not least because you're standing straighter," hissed James as they walked around the side of the stage. "Apparently love suits you too."

He gave him a Look; there were more important things to be thinking about right now. James sniggered.

"Ah, here they are," exclaimed the Minister Appleby, happily. He was a rotund gentleman with a booming voice and genial demeanour; he seemed to excel at putting people at their ease. Which was a good start, given the circumstances.

"May I introduce Miss Alice Roberts, Mr James Potter and Mr Remus Lupin," said Professor McGonagall, nodding to each one in turn. "Otherwise known as Margaret, Claudio and Benedick."

"This is Martin Fortinbrass, the head of the British Quidditch League," said Minister Appleby, amiably; out of the corner of his eye Remus could see James bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Fortinbrass seemed to be your classic Quidditch-player-not-quite-gone-to-seed; he nodded at them in a friendly fashion.

"This is Lord Huon Buchardt, the French Minister of Magic, don't-cher-know, and his charming wife, the Lady Violetta."

Lord Buchardt was a tall, imposing man in his late forties, who looked like he never really enjoyed anything much; he gave the three of them a faint smile before his face snapped back to its accustomed look of complete disdain. Remus wondered for a moment why anyone so plainly cheerless would attend a comedy, but brushed the thought away, choosing (as he suspected most people did) to concentrate on Madame Buchardt.

It was well known that the Lady Violetta preferred to drop her title, endearing her to the public, and use her married name, endearing her to the wizarding nobility. She had the reputation for being something of a socialite. She was a stunningly handsome woman, with an easy grace and elegance that her daughter had yet to fully cultivate. Her flowing, golden locks were piled up on her head, held in place by a series of jewelled pins of a deep purple hue. Purple appeared to be the colour of the day, and those parts of the satin dress that he could see under her dark cloak matched the jewels in her hair perfectly.

Unlike her husband, her expression was open and friendly, and Remus liked her immediately. She smiled at all three of them with such warmth that they immediately felt at ease; though she covered it well, on closer inspection Lady Buchardt was tense. Remus didn't blame her. Though her hair was of a deeper gold than her daughter's, and her eyes a touch greener, and her face a bit thinner, she was unmistakably Eleanor's mother. Both Alice and James shot him looks of the deepest confusion when their guests momentarily turned away, directed to look at some architectural detail on the silhouette of the school by Professor McGonagall. His subsequent grimace told them all they needed to know.

James enthusiastically drew Fortinbrass to one side, eagerly discussing the place of Quidditch in the curriculum and how there absolutely needed to be more of it, while Alice dimpled prettily at the Ministers and led them away, chattering enthusiastically about the play and her hopes of becoming an Auror. Remus suppressed a grin; she'd have them wrapped around her little finger in no time.

Seizing the opportunity, he approached Madame Buchardt.

"Would you care for a tour, my lady?" he asked, in what he hoped was a gallant tone.

"By all means, mon jeune maître, lead and I weel follow," she smiled, and followed him on what would be the briefest tour in Hogwarts history.

As soon as they reached the Clocktower Courtyard, he drew her away to one side.

"I hate to be forward, Madame, but there's something I need to discuss with you, rather urgently."

He watched her expression change from polite interest to blunt calculation.

_She must have recognised me from some of Frank's photographs_, he thought, not altogether surprised.

"I believe you know the student playing Beatrice – Eleanor Wren?"

Madame Buchardt preferred to remain silent, but she made no move to prevent him from continuing; he had the unsettling feeling that she might possibly be reading his mind.

"I know who she is – or rather who she is to you. She heard that you were in attendance with your husband and locked herself in the props cupboard. I suspect that she intends not to appear this evening…"

Her expression had hardened at his admission, but she stayed quiet, waiting for him to finish.

"I came to ask what you thought she should do, Madame, since she would rather not do anything to upset you – I thought perhaps you might have everything in hand as it was."

At this, her expression softened and she gave a small laugh.

"Hélas, not zis time. My 'usband 'as long suspected zee existence of my daughter… or at least," she conceded. "Of some 'idden scandal. I suspect 'e wishes to use 'er against me. Zere are rumours at court zat he wishes to be rid of me, and would, therefore, be delighted to find a reason to besmirch my character."

She sighed.

"'E is under zee misguided opinion zat 'e is powerful and I am not. I thought 'e may be up to somezing wiz zis trip. And after 'is men found our valley at zee start of zee summer… I 'ave tried so 'ard to keep 'er out of all of zis."

"What should we do?" he asked, a little sorry for the formidable woman in front of him.

She gave him a gentle smile.

"I take eet you would be zee kind young man 'oo my daughter writes to me about?"

"Sh-she writes about me?" he asked, surprised.

"Oui, about 'ow you are just perfect for 'er, 'ow you cannot be togezer…"

Remus blushed.

"Oh… well, that's all changed today," he said, awkwardly.

Madame Buchardt clapped her hands together in delight.

"C'est magnifique! I am so 'appy for you – from what I 'ave 'eard, you make my daughter very 'appy," she beamed at him, and he couldn't help beaming back. All at once, though, her expression became serious again; she took a deep breath and bit her lip the same way Eleanor did when she was worried. "I think zis 'as gone on long enough," she said, almost to herself. "Tell 'er I wish to see my daughter shine… eet eez time zee world saw 'ow proud I am of 'er."

He nodded, in a businesslike fashion, and almost missed her murmur.

"And eef I can survive zis performance, 'ee won't 'ave any legs to stand on… pompous ass."

He slipped away from the group the first chance he got, noticing with some annoyance that Lord Buchardt was looking around suspiciously, presumably expecting Eleanor to jump out of a bush at any second. He'd growled a little, but James had trodden on his foot and happily no one had noticed.

There was a throng of worried looking students around the props cupboard as cast and crew alike tried to convince their main character to come out. He fought his way to the front, where Lily was trying to communicate with a stubbornly silent Eleanor through the door. She looked up as he reached her.

"Good – you try to talk some sense into her, Remus. None of the rest of us can even get her to tell us what's wrong!" she snapped, clearly frustrated at not being able to help her friend.

"Ask James," he whispered in her ear as he passed her, and she shot him a look of utmost confusion.

Across the crowd, Remus met Sirius's eyes, and despite everything else that had happened, he understood.

"Alright you nosy beggars, let's give her some room," he started waving people away. "Come on, move along."

Remus waited until they were far enough away that they wouldn't hear him and unlocked the cupboard; before she could protest he was inside and closing the door. He sat down on an upturned bucket.

"I can't go out there – it'd kill her –" she was trying really hard to be calm, but Remus could see right through that. He caught her hands and held them tightly.

"I spoke with her – she says –"

"You _spoke _with her?" she looked at him like he was mad.

"Yes – I pretended to give her a tour –" he said, waving her question away impatiently. "She said to tell you, she wants to see you shine – for everyone to see how proud she is of you."

"But her husband –"

"She said he's been trying to find something to get rid of her with for a long time – she called him a pompous ass, actually, but I don't think she meant me to hear it…"

Eleanor smiled slightly at this.

"She wants me to go ahead with this?" she asked, and he understood that she wasn't just asking about the play.

"She does." He kissed her forehead. "I think she's tired of pretending – it's all a performance, really. One way or another. It's your turn now."

Eleanor watched his face for a moment, and for a second it was like looking at Madame Buchardt herself; then she nodded and stood, collecting herself.

"We'll tell them it was show nerves," she said.

"Ellie, anyone who sees her will know…"

"Then they'll understand."

They smiled at one another, and together they left the cupboard, hand in hand.


	26. Programme

**On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, and St Mungo's Hospital, London**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

**Proudly Presents**

**MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING**

By William Shakespeare

'**A merry war of trust and treachery'**

Few things make me more proud to be Headmaster than events such as this, where our students come together for a great cause. Having watched the preparations from a safe distance I can assure you, dear friends, that they have, once again, surpassed themselves in the name of charity. This year's play, William Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing', centres on the events following a great battle in late medieval Muggle Italy.

The returning Prince and his followers visit their ally, the Governor of Messina and his family, where a marriage between the Governor's daughter and the Prince's right hand man is arranged. The Prince and his allies set upon another of the Prince's men, who has long entertained a 'merry war' between himself and the lady's cousin, and is a sworn bachelor, and his enemy, a sworn spinster, with the intent of bringing the two together. Meanwhile, the Prince's half-brother, who lives to cause mischief for his brother, plots to upset the courting.

As you can imagine, some considerable chaos ensues, which I hope you will all join me in enjoying.

There remains nothing more for me to do than to thank you all for attending, and helping to support the fine work undertaken at our foremost hospital, and to introduce our players.

Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock; Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)_

**CAST**

**Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon**

-Algernon Paracelsus Zabini (S)

**Don John, his bastard brother**

-Sirius Orion Black (G)

**Claudio, a young lord of Florence**

-James Ignotus Potter (G)

**Benedick, a young lord of Padua**

-Remus John Lupin (G)

**Leonato, Governor of Messina**

-Franklin Odo Longbottom (R)

**Antonio, an old man, his brother**

-Severus Lysander Snape (S)

**Balthasar, attendant on Don Pedro**

-Ferdinand Finch-Fletchley (H)

**Borachio, follower of Don John**

-Nathan Daniel Perks (R)

**Conrade, follower of Don John**

-Thomas Ieuan Abbott (H)

**Friar Francis**

-Peter Antioch Pettigrew (G)

**Dogberry, a constable**

-Dane Abercrombie (R)

**Verges, a headborough**

-Simon Underhill (H)

**A Sexton**

-Damocles Ciceron Belby (R)

**A Boy**

-Dorothy Olivia Cottingley (R)

**Hero, daughter to Leonato**

-Lily Rosemary Evans (G)

**Beatrice, niece to Leonato**

-Eleanor 'Jenny' Wren (G)

**Margaret, gentlewoman waiting on Hero**

-Alice Susan Roberts (G)

**Ursula, gentlewoman waiting on Hero**

-Claire Antonia Pollard (H)

**Messenger**

-Archibald Mountbatten Beck (H)

**Watch**

-Wilbur Filibuster Crabbe (S)

-Crispin Spinnet (R)

-Helbert Boxley (H)

**CREW**

**Front of House / Announcer**

-Priscilla Edna Flowers (S)

**Stage Manager**

-Lin Ye Choi (R)

**Lights**

-Aracelcis Lydia Funke (S)

-Pearl Rebecca Holmes (H)

**Props**

-Penny Victoria Campbell (H)

-Meredith Glass (H)

**Effects**

-Esther Madeline Hicks (R)

-Olivia Christine Patten (S)

**Costumes**

-Alice Susan Roberts (G)

-Severus Lysander Snape (S)

-Eleanor 'Jenny' Wren (G)

**Musicians / Band**

-Kelly Hope Brooks (S)

-Miriam Heather Morgan (H)

-Ivy Karen Owens (R)

**Choir**

-Ferdinand Finch-Fletchley (H)

-Amber Irene Ortega (R)

-Peter Antioch Pettigrew (G)

-Claire Antonia Pollard (H)

**Photography**

-Franklin Odo Longbottom (R)

The students would very much like to thank Professors Filius Flitwick, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Pomona Sprout, Horace Slughorn, without whom this production would, quite literally never have happened.

Thanks need also go to Madame Malkin's robe shop in Diagon Alley, who kindly supplied the wonderful costumes, Scrivenshaft's in Hogsmeade, who kindly produced the programmes, and the Ministry of Magic, for advertising this production.

Lastly, we would all like to thank you for attending, and for your patience.

The proceeds of this production go towards the construction of a new Specialist Children's Wing at St Mungo's Hospital in London.


	27. Act I

'_But men must know, that in this theatre of man's life it is reserved only for God and angels to be lookers on' – Francis Bacon_

0o0o0o0

They stood in the wings of the stage, nervously running through their lines and giving one another terrified thumbs-ups.

Eleanor was only half listening to the welcoming speech that Priscilla was giving their audience since there was a loud buzzing in her ears; her skin felt hot, and she tottering on the edge of dizziness. Glancing around, she could see more than a few faces that were tinged with green. She shook herself. They'd done this hundreds of times – though admittedly without an audience – and there hadn't been any major problems.

_Besides,_ she thought, _I've known this by heart since I was twelve, it's not like I'll forget anything._

Remus, who was skulking about behind her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The looks of surprise they'd earned by leaving the cupboard hand-in-hand had almost been enough to restore Eleanor's good mood. He looked awfully handsome in his smart cream and blue uniform.

She hated to admit it, but she felt a good deal happier about going on stage now that Remus was less terrified. She'd asked him about his sudden Zen-like calm, and he'd simply replied that it was ok because she'd be out there too.

She found this particularly strange since her presence hadn't had that effect during rehearsals for the past year, but she let it go.

Somewhere out in the vast emptiness of the stage, she heard Priscilla wrap up her introduction.

_Well_, she thought, _can't back out now_.

She took a deep breath and waited for the appropriate enchanted scenery to materialise.

0o0o0o0

When she walked out with her friends, they were stood in an orchard behind a stately looking Italian villa; she could just make out the impression of a large number of people staring up at her through the dazzlingly bright stage lights.

Her throat tightened involuntarily.

They were ranged about the stage in attitudes of repose: some were reading, some eating, some conversing; they were waiting for the appearance of Archibald Beck, playing the intrepid messenger to Don Pedro.

The sprightly Hufflepuff sprang on stage, bearing a scroll of parchment; the household watched him pass with great interest. He bowed stiffly to Frank and handed him the letter.

Frank opened it amiably.

"I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina!"

The assembled members of Leonato's household expressed their excitement in the form of cheers and clapping; they chattered excitedly to one another.

"He is very near by this," said Archie, happily. "He was not three leagues off when I left him!"

"How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?" Frank asked, looking concerned.

"But few of any sort, and none of name," Archie exclaimed, to general relief.

"A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers," said Frank, sagely. He shot a wicked grin at Lily, his daughter. "I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio," he teased, and Lily contrived to blush.

"Much deserved on his part and equally remembr'd by Don Pedro." He smiled at Lily, correctly assuming her attachment to the gentleman. "He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. He hath indeed better bett'red expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how."

Frank nodded, pleased.

"He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it."

Archie grinned.

"I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness."

"Did he break out into tears?" asked Frank.

"In great measure," the messenger nodded.

"A kind overflow of kindness," Frank philosophised, nodding. "There are no faces truer than those so washed. How much better it is to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!"

"I pray you," asked Eleanor, fixing Archie with a shrewd smile. "Is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no?"

Archie looked perplexed.

"I know none of that name, lady. There was none such in the army of any sort."

"What is he that you ask for, niece?" asked Frank, clearly intrigued.

"My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua," said Lily, laughing.

Frank rolled his eyes; several of the household sniggered.

"O, he's returned, and as pleasant as ever he was!" cried Archie.

"I Pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars?" asked Eleanor, lightly. "But how many hath he killed? For indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing."

Archibald looked mildly confused, but Frank frowned at her.

"Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not."

Archie felt the need to defend his fellow soldier.

"He hath done good service, lady, in these wars – and a good soldier too lady."

"And a good soldier to a lady!" cried Eleanor; there was a sort of collective chuckle from the audience and she felt herself relax a little. They were along for the ride. "But what is he to a lord?"

Archibald-the-gallant-messenger appeared to be somewhat out of his depth here:

"A lord to a lord," he said, bemused; Frank patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "A man to a man; stuffed with all honourable virtues."

"It is so indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man!" Eleanor cried, triumphantly. "But for the stuffing – well, we are all mortal."

Frank decided to intercede, since Archie was looking at his niece as if she were a mad-woman.

"You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of a merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her. They never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them."

"Alas," laughed Eleanor. "He gets nothing by that! In our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed by one." The audience made that strange, many-headed sound of lots of people laughing together. "Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother."

"Is't possible?" asked Archie, still quite bewildered by the lady Beatrice.

"Very easily possible," she responded, promptly. "He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block."

"I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books," said Archie, seriously, to more laughter.

"No. And he were, I would burn my study," she said, with a wry grin. "But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil?"

Archie gave her a perturbed look and glanced at Lily.

"He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio," he said.

"O, Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease!" she cried, grasping Lily's arms and continuing theatrically to much laughter. "He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio if he have caught the Benedict; it will cost him a thousand pound ere a' be cured!"

Lily giggled, along with her waiting ladies.

"I would keep friends with you, lady," said Archie, smiling.

Eleanor grinned at him.

"Do, good friend."

"You will never run mad, niece?" Frank enquired; he had been following the conversation with interest.

"No, not till a hot January," she smiled.

Archie laughed along with the rest of the household, then pointed offstage excitedly.

"Don Pedro is approached!"

There was a general hurried standing up and straightening of clothes; Don Pedro and his men strode onstage. Eleanor took a second to take them in: they all looked smart and handsome in their uniforms – cream and blue for the majority, cream and black for three of them. Sirius, Nathan and Thomas had ranged themselves slightly apart from the company; they looked on with mild disdain.

Algernon took in the household with great approval; delicately, he took off his riding gloves.

"Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble?" he asked, expansively. "The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it."

"Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace," said Frank, with an easy dignity. "For trouble being gone, comfort should remain. But when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave."

Algernon laughed and the two men embraced, to general applause.

"You embrace your charge too lightly," he said, cheerfully. "I think this is your daughter?" he asked, kissing Lily's hand as she was presented to him.

Eleanor had to fight a laugh when she glanced at James, who was noticing Lily's presence all too blatantly.

"Her mother hath many times told me so," said Frank, proudly.

"Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?" enquired Remus, chirpily.

"Signior Benedick,_ no_," said Frank, tolerantly. "For then were you a child."

The great, many headed beast of the audience chuckled.

"You have it full, Benedick. We may guess by this what you are, being a man," said Algernon, patiently. "Truly the lady fathers herself," he added, to Frank. "Be happy, lady, for you are like an honourable father."

Lily curtsied and dimpled prettily.

"If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as like him as she is," said Remus, loudly, as various conversations sprang up around the stage.

"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick," said Eleanor acidly. "Nobody marks you."

To her delight, Remus turned to her with a flash of annoyance; he'd really got it down now.

"What, my dear lady Disdain!" he spat. "Are you yet living?"

"Is it possible Disdain should die when she hath such meet food to feed her as Signior Benedick?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "Courtesy itself must convert to Disdain if _you_ come in her presence."

A few of the household and soldiers were turning to watch the skirmish with interest now; the burble of invented conversation dipped a notch.

"Then is Courtesy a turncoat," said Remus, disdainfully, and Eleanor was forced to wonder fleetingly why his rude manner was currently such a turn on. "But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted," he boasted. And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none."

"A dear happiness to women!" Eleanor cried, to general snickering. "They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor." Everyone on stage was watching them now, expressions ranging from amused, to intrigued, to exasperated; the audience chortled. "I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humour for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me," she said, with real venom.

"God keep your ladyship still in that mind, so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face," he retorted, losing a little of his cool.

Several people in the audience gasped and most of the players laughed; Eleanor waited for the burble of laughter to die down before delivering her answer.

"Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were," she said, sweetly, and the audience laughed outright.

"Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher," he spat, scowling.

"Better a bird of my tongue than a beast of yours," she shot back.

"I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue," he said, wickedly, and she contrived to look greatly affronted. "And so good a continuer. But keep your way, a God's name! I have done."

He turned away, and Eleanor scowled after him.

"You always end with a jade's trick," she said, bitterly. "I know you of old."

"That is the sum of all," said Algernon, firmly. "Signior Claudio and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I tell him we shall stay at the least a month –" he announced, to delighted applause from household and soldiers alike. " – and he heartily prays some occasion may delay us longer. I dare swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart."

"If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn," Frank smiled, genially. He glanced at Sirius, who was still stood in his corner with his little knot of cream-and-black followers, with a sour expression on his face. "Let me bid you welcome, my lord," he said, with gentle dignity. "Being reconciled to the Prince, your brother, I owe you all duty."

"I thank you," said Sirius, stiffly. "I am not of many words… but I thank you."

Eleanor shivered a little and wondered whether he had learned this manner from his father.

Frank smiled and turned back to the throng, spreading his arms wide.

"Please it your Grace lead on?" he asked, and Algernon nodded, stretching out a hand.

"Your hand, Leonato. We will go together," he said, and they led the way off stage. Eleanor, still shooting Remus dirty looks, followed them.

Remus chuckled and made to wash his face in the water from the well; James followed him with that trademark 'I'm-thinking-about-Lily' expression on his face. He watched his friends ablutions impatiently.

"Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato?" he asked, as Remus dried his face; he looked up at him from behind a conveniently abandoned towel.

"I noted her not, but I looked on her," he said.

"Is she not a modest young lady?" James asked, and Remus fought the urge to roll his eyes; this scene was, in many ways, sickeningly familiar.

"Do you question me as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgement?" he asked. "Or would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex?"

"No," said James, sounding annoyed. "I pray thee, speak in sober judgement."

Remus sighed.

"Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise," he said, amused at the effect his words were having on his friend. "Only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I do not like her."

"Though thinkest I am in sport," said James, irritably. "I pray thee tell me truly how thou lik'st her."

Remus stared at his friend, amused.

"Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?"

"Can the world buy such a jewel?" asked James, dreamily, his annoyance forgotten.

"Yea, and a case to put it in to," said Remus, incredulously. "But speak you this with a sad brow? Or do you play the flouting Jack, to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a rare carpenter?" He gave James a searching look. "Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song?"

"In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I looked on," said James, sincerely. Remus actually did roll his eyes this time.

"I can see yet without spectacles," he said, and several people laughed, since James's hand unconsciously went to his glasses. "And I see no such matter. There's her cousin," he continued, darkly. "And she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December. But I hope you have no intent to turn husband," he peered at his friend, worriedly. "Have you?"

"I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife."

Remus stared at him; James was still looking off in the direction Lily had left in, wistfully.

"Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion?" he demanded, scornfully. "Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? Go to, i' faith! Look! Don Pedro is returned to seek you."

James turned to his Prince, as Algernon returned, carrying a cup of wine. In honour of the casual nature of their stay he had unbuttoned the top of his uniform. He gave his companions a searching look.

"What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonato's?" he asked.

"I would your Grace would constrain me to tell," said Remus, tersely.

Algernon raised an eyebrow.

"I charge thee on thy allegiance."

"He," he pointed at James, irritably. "Is in _love_." Algernon's expression shifted from faint worry to plain amusement. "With who? Now that is your Grace's part. With Hero, Leonato's short daughter!" Remus exclaimed, to general amusement on the audiences part.

"If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise," muttered James, dully.

"Amen, if you love her, for the lady is well worthy," said Algernon, amused.

"You speak this to fetch me in, my lord," said James, shortly.

"By my troth I speak my thought," replied Algernon.

"And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine," said James, getting irritated.

"And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine," Remus interrupted, sounding exasperated. James thwapped him on the arm and he responded in kind; the audience tittered.

"That I love her, I feel," insisted James.

"That she is worthy, I know," Algernon assured him.

"That I neither feel how she should be loved, nor know how should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me. I will die in it at the stake," Remus exclaimed, milking it for all it was worth. James and Algernon shared an amused and tolerant look.

"Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty," said Algernon, fondly.

"And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will," added James.

"That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks," said Remus firmly. "But I will have a rechate winded in me forehead, or hang my bugle in invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me." James and Algernon smiled wryly, and he continued, with determination. "Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is (for which I may go the finer), I will live a bachelor."

Algernon gave him a good-naturedly calculating look.

"I will see you, ere I die, look pale with love."

"With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, not with love," said Remus, with open contempt for the emotion. "Prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad maker's pen and hang me up at the door of a brothel house for the sign of Blind Cupid."

"Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou will prove a notable argument," said Algernon, wryly; James grinned.

"If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder and called Adam," Remus retorted.

"Well, as time shall try: 'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'," said Algernon.

"The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead," Remus said, ranting a little now. His back was to his companions, and Algernon mimed a pair of bulls' horns on his head at James, who shook with silent laughter, eliciting sniggers from the audience.

"And let me be vilely painted," Remus continued, warming to his theme. "And in such good letter as they write 'Here is good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign 'Here you may see Benedick the married man'!"

"If this should ever happen, though wouldst be horn-mad," remarked James, and Algernon laughed.

"Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly," he said, grinning.

"I look for an earthquake too then," said Remus, hotly.

"Well, you will temporize with the hours," said Algernon, genially. "In the meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to Leonato's." Remus straightened to receive his instructions, temporarily putting aside his scorn. "Commend me to him and tell him I will not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made great preparation."

Remus nodded, smartly and glanced at James.

"Examine your conscience," he instructed him; his friend shook his head. "And so I leave you." He gave Algernon a slight bow and strode offstage; his companions watched him go in amusement. James turned back to his Prince.

"My liege, your Highness now may do me good," he said, hopefully.

"My love is thine to teach," Algernon said, with a friendly nod. "Teach it but how and thou shalt see how apt it is to learn any hard lesson that may do thee good."

"Hath Leonato any son, my lord?" James asked, as his companion sat himself on the lip of the well.

"No child but Hero; she's his only heir. Dost thou affect her Claudio?"

"O my lord, when you went onward on this ended action, I looked upon her with a soldier's eye, that liked, but had a rougher task in hand than to drive liking to the name of love," said James, earnestly. "But now I am returned and that war-thoughts have left their places vacant, in their rooms come thronging soft and delicate desires, all prompting me how fair young Hero is, saying I liked her ere I went to wars."

"Thou wilt be like a lover presently and tire the hearer with a book of words," said Algernon, chuckling. "If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, and I will break with her and with her father, and thou shalt have her." He gave his friend a shrewd look. "Was't not to this end that thou began'st to twist so fine a story?"

"How sweetly do you minister to love, that know love's grief by his complexion!" James exclaimed. "But lest my liking might too sudden seem, I would have salved it with a longer treatise."

"What need the bridge much broader than the flood?" asked Algernon, with a quirk of an eyebrow. "The fairest grant is the necessity. Look, what will serve is fit. 'Tis once, thou lovest, and I will fit thee with the remedy," he clapped him around the shoulder. "I know we shall have revelling tonight. I will assume thy part in some disguise, and tell fair Hero I am Claudio, and in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart and take her hearing prisoner with the force and strong encounter of my amorous tale; then after to her father will I break, and the conclusion is, she shall be thine." James was grinning like a madman, and Algernon returned his smile. "In practice let us put it presently," he said, and together they left the stage, scheming.

0o0o0o0

They passed Eleanor and Remus in the wings, the latter having lingered there to steal a kiss as he exited the stage; they gave them the thumbs up.

"That was brilliant!" Eleanor hissed, and James grinned.

Algernon, however, was paying more attention to the fact that their hands were linked. He nodded to them.

"It's about time," he said, and sauntered off to get a drink of water, leaving them blushing in his wake. James shook his head at them.

"Did you think none of us had noticed?" he asked, satisfied at the mild look of surprise on Eleanor's face.

He and Remus took themselves off to change their costumes for the masquerade. Eleanor fingered the edge of her mask, restlessly, and looked back out onto the stage…

0o0o0o0

Frank and Severus were ambling along a well kept garden path and discussing the upcoming party.

"Brother," said Severus, drawing Frank to one side. "I can tell you strange news that you yet dreamt not of."

"Are they good?" asked Frank, immediately interested.

"As the events stamps them," said Severus. "But they have a good cover, they show well outward. The Prince and Count Claudio were thus much overheard by a man of mine." He continued, candidly: "The Prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if he found her accordant, he meant to take the present time to the top and instantly break with you of it."

Frank looked amazed, and not a little excited.

"Hath the fellow any wit that told you this?" he asked.

"A good sharp fellow," said Severus, earnestly. "I will send for him, and question him yourself."

"No, no," said Frank, with a smile. "We will hold it as a dream till it appear itself. But I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it!"

0o0o0o0

They hurried offstage again, presumably to do just this; Severus stayed with Eleanor to watch the next scene, and turned just in time to see the swirl of enchantment that caused the scenery to shift. Where before there had been a bright garden, a dark chamber was spread, with a great table and chair…

0o0o0o0

Sirius stamped in and threw his sword to the table, belt and all; he took off his jacket as if it had personally insulted him and threw it on the floor before flinging himself moodily into the chair.

Thomas Abbot followed him in at a somewhat wary distance, carrying wine and a platter of food, which he set down on the table. Sirius gave him a dark look.

"What the Goodyear, my lord!" exclaimed Thomas. "Why are you thus out of measure sad?"

"There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limits," huffed Sirius, sulkily; he loosened his shirt at the top and reached for a small bunch of grapes.

"You should hear reason…" said Thomas, soothingly, retrieving the discarded jacket and laying it on the table.

"And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?"

"If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance," Thomas said, pouring a cup of wine for his Prince. Sirius took it gracelessly.

"I wonder that thou, being (as thou say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goes about to apply a moral medicine to a mortifying mischief," he said, tartly. "I cannot hide what I am," he proclaimed, standing and beginning to pace. "I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend on no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour."

"Yea," said Thomas, watching him carefully. "But you must not make the full show of this till you may do it without controlment," he advised. "You have of late stood out against your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself. It is needful that you frame the season for your own harvest."

Sirius gave a cruel laugh.

"I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace," he spat. "And it better fits my blood to be disdained of them all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain dealing villain!" he cried, backing Thomas into a wall and looming threateningly over him. "I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime," he growled, pointing an authoritative finger at the quivering Thomas. "Let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me."

"Can you make no use of your discontent?" Thomas asked, once Sirius had backed off a little.

"I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who comes here?"

Nathan ambled in, a mask and cloak over his arm.

Sirius brightened at the appearance of his second companion, and Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.

"What news, Borachio?" asked Sirius, taking a bite from an apple.

"I came yonder from a great supper," said Nathan, cheerfully. "The Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage."

"Will it serve for any model to build mischief on?" Sirius asked, much intrigued. "What is he for a fool that betroths himself to unquietness?"

"Marry, it is your brother's right hand," said Nathan, taking some of the grapes and popping them into his mouth. Thomas gave him a pinched look.

"Who?" asked Sirius. "The most exquisite Claudio?"

"Even he," said Nathan.

"A proper squire!" cried Sirius. "And who? And who? Which way looks he?"

"Marry, one Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato."

"A very forward March-chick! How came you to this?" asked Sirius.

"Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a musty room, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference," explained Nathan, sniggering. "I whipped me behind the arras and there hear it agreed upon that the Prince should woo Hero for himself, and having obtained her, give her to Count Claudio."

"Come, come, let us thither," said Sirius, a dark excitement crossing his features. "This may prove food to my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow. If I can cross him any way, I bless myself any way. You are both sure, and will assist me?"

"To the death, my lord," Thomas assured him, and Nathan nodded.

"Let us to the great supper," said Sirius, picking up his coat and sword. "Their cheer is the greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were o' my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done?"

"We'll wait upon your lordship," said Nathan, following Thomas and Sirius offstage.

0o0o0o0

As he ducked offstage Sirius nearly walked straight into Remus, who was waiting to make his entrance to the revelry scenes. He glanced behind him as the scenery changed with a soft 'whoosh'. Remus caught his arm.

"About yesterday –"

"I'm so sorry, I –"

"I know… and I know you were just trying to protect Ellie."

Sirius looked astonished.

"You don't hate me?"

"I might have, if you hadn't good reason – it was a misunderstanding, Sirius, they happen to the best of us."

"Well… thanks…" he said, and Remus shrugged, good-naturedly.

For a few moments, Sirius just stared at Moony; was it him, or did his friend look taller today? He was holding himself differently… more confidently.

"You know," said Sirius, smiling a little. "You and Ellie would make a great couple – you should ask her out."

To his surprise, Remus didn't scoff or deny any kind of attachment; instead he broke out into a wide grin.

"Well, actually…" he began.

0o0o0o0

'_The pit of a theatre is the one place where the tears of virtuous and wicked men alike are mingled' – Denis Diderot_


	28. Act II, Scene i and ii

'_Acting is a question of absorbing other people's personalities and adding some of your own experience' – Jean Paul Satre_

0o0o0o0

The stage was alive with people: even the crew had been costumed up to act as extra revellers. Everywhere there were masked people dancing, cavorting and generally having a pretty raucous time of it. The band had been moved on stage and were somehow managing to be playing very quietly and miming giving a spirited rendition of their score at the same time.

Frank led his household, currently comprising Severus, Alice, Claire, Lily and Eleanor, out into the midst, where they stood, enjoying the general splendour. Sirius and his men strolled past, mask-less, but dressed for the revelry; he kissed Lily's hand as he passed, leaving her bemused. She glanced, uncertainly, at her father, but the dark Prince was already gone.

"Was not Count John here at supper?" Frank asked, peering after him with an inscrutable expression.

"I saw him not," said Severus, following his brother's eyes.

"How tartly that gentleman looks!" Eleanor remarked, twisting her cat mask in her hands. "I can never see him but I am heartburned an hour after."

"He is of a very melancholy disposition," agreed Lily, frowning.

"He were an excellent man that were made just in the midway between him and Benedick," said Eleanor, with a wry smile. "The one is too like an image and says nothing, and the other too like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling." She mimed chattering with her hand and her cousin, along with some of the audience, laughed.

"Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's mouth and half Count John's melancholy in Signior Benedick's face –" said Frank, amused.

"With a good leg and a good foot, uncle," said Eleanor, to general sniggers, onstage and off. "And money enough in his purse," she continued, and Lily laughed, hiding her mouth behind her doll mask. "Such a man would win any woman in the world, if'a could get her good will."

"By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a husband if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue," remarked Frank, tolerantly.

"In faith," laughed Severus, waving his bear mask at her. "She's too curst."

"Too curst is more than curst," said Eleanor. "I shall lessen God's sending that way, for it is said, 'God sends a curst cow short horns'; but to a cow too curst he sends none."

"So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns," said Frank, and both Alice and Ursula giggled into their moon and mouse masks, which they fixed to their faces.

"Just," said Eleanor, with a tone that she had precisely understood her uncle's meaning. "If he send me no husband; for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening." She turned to her other uncle. "Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face," she said, grinning. "I had rather lie in the woollen!"

"You may light on a husband that hath no beard," suggested Frank, idly toying with his skull mask.

"What should I do with him?" Eleanor asked. "Dress him in my apparel and make him my waiting gentle-woman?" Lily and the girls all sniggered while Severus and Frank looked on, chuckling. "He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man; and he that is more than a youth is not for me; and he that is less than a man," she said, pausing for effect. "_I_ am not for him," she exclaimed, and the audience roared with laughter. "Therefore I will even take sixpence in earnest of the berrord and lead his apes into hell."

"Well then, go you into hell?" asked Frank, beginning to show signs of fatherly exasperation.

"No," smiled Eleanor. "But to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his head, and say, 'Get you to heaven Beatrice, get you to heaven. Here's no place for you maids.'" The audience gave a rippling chuckle as her family laughed. "So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter. For the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there live we as merry as the day is long."

Severus rolled his eyes and turned to Lily, in good humour.

"Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled by your father," he said, fondly.

"Yes, faith," said Eleanor, seizing upon a new opportunity to tease her elders. "It is my cousin's duty to make cursy and say, 'Father, as it please you.' But for all that, cousin," she said, briefly clasping Lily's hand. "Let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another cursy and say 'Father, as it please me.'"

"Well, niece," said Frank, tolerantly. "I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband."

"Not till God make men of some other metal than earth," she retorted, with wry scorn. "Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none. Adam's sons are my brethren and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred."

Frank ignored her.

"Daughter," he said to Lily, gently. "Remember what I told you. If the Prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer."

"The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you not be wooed in good time," said Eleanor, lightly, not pleased at being ignored. "If the Prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer." Lily laughed, and Eleanor continued, blithely ignoring Frank's exasperated expression: "For, hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure and a cinquepace. The first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig (and full as fantastical)," she pretended to fan herself with her mask. "The wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes Repentance and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave."

"Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly," said Frank, mildly.

"I have a good eye uncle," she said, with a grin. "I can see a church by daylight."

Frank shook his head over the laugher from the audience and – seeing movement in the wings – cried out, happily: "The revellers are ent'ring, brother. Make good room!"

The soldiers came in cloaked and masked, laughing and enjoying the sight of so many masked friends.

The foremost gentleman, who Eleanor knew was Algernon and was wearing a sun-god mask, held out his hand to Lily.

"Lady," he asked. "Will you walk about with your friend?"

Lily blushed and covered her face with the doll mask.

"So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away."

"With me in your company?" the sun-god asked, hopefully.

"I may say so when I please," said Lily, coyly.

"And when please you to say so?" the sun-god asked.

"When I like your favour, for God defend the lute should be like the case!" exclaimed Lily, and the audience laughed along with the players.

"My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove."

"Why then, your visor should be thatched," laughed Lily.

"Speak low if you speak love," said the sun-god, drawing her aside.

As they moved away, Ferdinand Finch-Fletchley – masked as a bandit – walked with Alice, who was coquettishly toying with the corner of her moon mask. As they talked, they took centre stage.

"Well I would you did like me," said Ferdy, a hand on her back.

"So would not I for your own sake," Alice laughed. "For I have many ill qualities."

"Which is one?" Ferdy asked, chuckling.

"I say my prayers aloud."

"So much the better," he said. "The hearers may cry amen."

Alice took up an attitude of prayer.

"God match me with a good dancer!" she prayed, trying (and failing) to look pious.

"Amen," said Ferdy, with gusto.

"And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is done," Alice added, with a giggle. "Answer, clerk."

"No more words," laughed Ferdy. "The clerk is answered."

He whirled her away expertly and their place was taken by an out-of-breath Claire, rapidly followed by Severus, who pinched her bottom.

As the audience laughed, Claire squealed convincingly.

"I know you well enough," she gasped. "You are Signior Antonio!"

"At a word, I am not," Severus said, laughing behind his bear mask.

"I know you by the waggling of your head," laughed Claire, poking him in the chest.

"To tell you true, I counterfeit him," said Severus.

"You could never do him so ill-well unless you were the very man," she retorted. "Here's his dry hand up and down. You are he, you are he!"

"At a word, I am not," Severus repeated.

"Come, come," said Claire, leaning in to her pursuer. "Do you think I do not know you by your excellent wit? Can virtue hide itself?" Apparently it could, since Severus pinched her bottom again. "Aiiek!" Claire cried, quickly stepping back. "Go to, mum, you are he. Graces will appear, and there's an end. Aiiek!" she cried again, and Severus chased her around the stage, both of them laughing their heads off.

Eleanor angrily followed a figure wearing a laughing-man mask, hands on hips, cat mask slightly askew.

"Will you not tell me who told you so?" she demanded.

"No, you shall pardon me," her quarry said.

"Nor will you tell me who you are?"

"Not now," said a voice that was both blatantly Remus's and blatantly amused.

"That I was disdainful, and that I had my good with out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales,'" she huffed. "Well, this was Signior Benedick that said so."

The laughing man straightened slightly, clearly about to engage in espionage.

"What's he?"

"I'm sure you know him well enough," said Eleanor, watching Severus finally catch up with Claire, just at the edge of wings; she pulled him behind the curtain, earning a great guffaw from the audience.

"Not I, believe me," insisted the laughing man.

"Did he never make you laugh?" she asked him, arching an eyebrow.

"I pray you, what is he?"

"Why, he is the Prince's jester," Eleanor said, and the laughing man began to look quite uncomfortable. "A very dull fool." Those in the audience that had cottoned on began to laugh, and their neighbours joined in. "Only his gift is in devising impossible slanders. None but libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy," she continued, ignoring her masked companion's mute distress; his hands were folded now, and he tapped his foot impatiently. "For he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in the fleet," she said, and added quietly: "I would he had boarded me."

"When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say," said the laughing man shortly.

"Do, do," laughed Eleanor, waving his suggestion on. "He'll but break a comparison or two on me; which peradventure (not marked or not laughed at), strikes him into melancholy, and then there's a partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no supper that night."

The band gave a practised crescendo, which faded again so that the players could be heard.

"We must follow the leaders," she said, offering her hand.

"In every good thing," responded the laughing man, taking her hand.

"Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at the next turning."

He swept her off, and Sirius and Nathan, wearing devil masks, took their mark beside James, with his cherub mask.

"Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it," said Sirius, loudly; James took the bait and shot them a quick look before striving to look nonchalant. He put his mask back on. "The ladies follow her and but one visor remains," he nodded towards Eleanor and Remus, still masked and dancing at stage right.

"And that is Claudio," hissed Nathan, to Sirius. "I know him by his bearing."

"Are not you Signior Benedick?" Sirius asked James, moving towards him.

"You know me well," said James, trying to appear taller than he was, to the amusement of the audience. He cocked his head, jauntily. "I am he."

"Signior, you are very near my brother in his love," said Sirius in all seriousness. "He is enamoured on Hero. I pray you dissuade him from her; she is no equal for his birth. You may do the part of an honest man in it."

"How do you know he loves her?" James asked, voice thick with emotion. Unnoticed, the stage had begun to empty.

"I heard him swear his affection," said Sirius, and nudged Nathan in the ribs.

"So did I too, and he swore he would marry her tonight," insisted Nathan.

"Come," said Sirius, meddling concluded. "Let us to the banquet."

James watched the two of them go and pulled off his mask, angrily.

"Thus answer I in name of Benedick but hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio," he lamented, miserably. "'Tis certain so. The Prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent; for beauty is a witch against whose charms faith melteth into blood." He huffed in defeat. "This is an accident of hourly proof, which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero!"

Abandoning his dance partner at the wings, Remus approached, pulling off his laughing-man mask.

"Count Claudio?" he asked, and James sighed.

"Yea, the same," he said.

"Come, will you go with me?" Remus asked, a hand on his friend's arm.

"Whither?"

"Even to the next willow, about your own business, County," said Remus, encouragingly. "What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck, like an usurer's chain? Or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf?" He gave James a friendly shove. "You must wear it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero."

"I wish him joy of her," grumbled James, through his teeth.

"Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier," said Remus, surprised. "So they sell bullocks. But did you think the Prince would have served you thus?"

"I pray you leave me," said James, hotly.

"Ho!" said Remus, eyebrows towards the heavens. "Now you strike like the blind man! 'Twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post."

"If it will not be, I'll leave you," said James, and stormed off stage left.

Remus watched him go, astonished.

"Alas, poor hurt fowl!" he said, to himself. "Now will he creep into sedges." He took off his cloak and laid it aside, frowning out into the audience. "But, that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not know me!" he said, in annoyance. "The Prince's fool! Ha!" he scoffed, and the audience tittered. "It may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so am I apt to do myself wrong. I am not so reputed!" he stuck his thumbs in the pocket of his waistcoat and kicked at an imaginary rock on the stage. "It is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice that puts the world into her person and so gives me out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may."

He looked up as Algernon, Hero and Leonato approached, unmasked.

"Now, signior," said Algernon, cheerfully. "Where's the Count? Did you see him?"

"Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame," Remus said. "I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a warren. I told him, and I think I told him true," he continued, with a smile at Lily. "That your Grace had got the good will of this young lady, and I off'red him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped."

"To be whipped?" frowned Algernon. "What's his fault?"

"The flat transgression of a schoolboy who, being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it."

"Wilt though make a trust a transgression?" asked Algernon, perplexed. "The transgression is in the stealer."

"Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, and the garland too," replied Remus. "For the garland he might have worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who (as I take it) have stol'n his bird's nest."

Algernon understood, and frowned, deeply.

"I will but teach them to sing and restore them to the owner," he said, firmly.

Remus nodded, unworriedly.

"If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly," he said, looking out into the wings (presumably at some unseen cavorting). His head snapped around at Algernon's next comment, however; appeased, the Prince decided to tease his friend.

"The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you," he said, with a wicked grin that Remus ignored. "The gentleman that danced with her told her she is much wronged by you."

"O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!" he scoffed, angrily. Algernon and Lily tried hard not to laugh; the audience chuckled. "An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince's jester, that I was duller than a great thaw," he ranted, angrily. "Huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs." Algernon, Lily and Frank were beside themselves now, not even bothering to conceal their laughter; this seemed to annoy Remus even more. "If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the North Star! I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed. She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary," he continued, furiously; Algernon noticed a mask-less Eleanor and James enter at stage right, but Remus was too angry to look up. "And people sin on purpose," he went on, "because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror and perturbation follows her."

Algernon nodded.

"Mmm. Look, here she comes…"

Remus took a long look at Eleanor before turning back to Algernon.

"Will your Grace command me any service to the world's end?" he pleaded; Eleanor raised a curious eyebrow. "I will go on the slightest errand now to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the Pygmies –" he ranted, getting angrier with every impossible task, "- rather than hold three words' conference with this _harpy_!" he'd practically shouted the last word, and Eleanor visibly flinched. "Have you no employment for me?" he begged his Prince, but Algernon was still nearly crying with laughter.

"None, but to desire your good company," he said, wiping his eyes.

"O God, sir, here's a dish I love not!" Remus cried, hotly. "I cannot endure my Lady Tongue!" he snapped, and stormed off, nearly barging into Eleanor as he went. She stared after him.

"Come, lady, come," said Algernon kindly, seeing that his friend's abrupt departure had upset her. "You have lost the heart of Signior Benedick."

Eleanor gave him a slightly pained smile.

"Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one," she said, looking down. "Marry, once before he won it of me with false dice; therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it."

"You have put him down, lady; you have put him down," said Algernon.

"So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools," she said, a little subdued. "I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek."

"Why, how now, Count?" asked Algernon, soberly. "Wherefore art thou sad?"

"Not sad, my lord," said James, tightly.

"How then, sick?"

"Neither, my lord," James answered, tersely.

"The Count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well," observed Eleanor. "But civil Count, civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion."

"I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true," said Algernon, thoughtfully. "Though I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false." He lifted Lily's hand towards James, and she smiled shyly over at him. "Here, Claudio," Algernon continued. "I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won. I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained. Name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!"

James's face lost its darkness like the dawn breaking through a storm; he stared, astonished and delighted, at Lily.

"Count," said Frank. "Take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes. His Grace hath made the match, and all grace say amen to it!"

"Speak, Count," Eleanor teased. "'Tis your cue."

"Silence is the perfectest herald of joy," said Claudio, taking Lily's hand and kissing it lightly; she blushed and smiled prettily. "I would be but little happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours. I give myself away for you and dote upon the exchange."

"Speak, cousin," Eleanor interrupted with a smile. "Or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kiss and let not him speak neither."

Lily and James smiled at her, then turned to whisper to one another, heads close together.

"In faith, lady, you have a merry heart," remarked Algernon, with a smile.

"Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool," said Eleanor, returning his smile. "It keeps on the windy side of care." She watched her cousin and her fiancé with a wry smile. "My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart."

"And so she doth, cousin," said James, with patience.

"Good Lord, for alliance!" sighed Eleanor, watching them kiss with a glad smile. "Thus goes everyone to the world but I, and I am sunburnt. I may sit in a corner and cry 'Heigh-ho for a husband!'"

"Lady Beatrice," said Algernon. "I will get you one."

"I would rather have one of your father's getting," said Eleanor. "Hath your Grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them."

"Will you have me, lady?" Algernon asked; both he and the audience seemed to be holding his breath.

Eleanor was plainly startled, but she recovered herself quickly.

"No, my lord," she said, gently. "Unless I might have another for working days; your Grace is too costly to wear every day." She smiled gently, and Algernon chuckled, saved from embarrassment. "But I beseech your Grace pardon me, I was born to speak all mirth and no matter."

Algernon shook his head.

"Your silence most offends me," he said, quietly. "And to be merry best becomes you, for out o' question you were born in a merry hour."

"No, sure, my lord, my mother cried," said Eleanor, a little sadly. "But then there was a star danced, and under that was I born." She stood, and began to take her leave. "Cousins," she cried. "God give you joy!"

The players (who had trickled back onstage as the scene unfolded) watched her go.

"By my troth," said Algernon, sadly. "A pleasant-spirited lady."

"There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord," said Frank, genially. "She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever then; for I have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing."

Everyone laughed at that, both onstage and off.

"She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband," observed Algernon, with a small smile.

"O, by no means!" cried Frank. "She mocks all her wooers out of suit."

"She were an excellent wife for Benedick," said Algernon, to general disbelief; the audience chuckled along with them.

Frank stared at his Prince in amazement.

"O Lord, my lord! If they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad!"

"County Claudio, when mean you to go to church?" asked the Prince, looking very much like a man who was Up To Something.

"Tomorrow, my lord," said James, happily. "Time goes on crutches till Love have all his rites."

"Not till Monday, my dear son," cried Frank. "Which is hence a just sevennight; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer to my mind." The waiting-women were nodding emphatically, but James looked troubled.

"Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing," said Algernon, smiling. "But I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours, which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection th' one with th' other." The players laughed, taking the audience with them. "I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction."

"My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings," agreed Frank, amiably.

"And I, my lord," said James, with a determined nod.

"And you too, gentle Hero?" asked Algernon.

"I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband," said Lily, dimpling prettily.

"And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know," said Algernon, to general amusement. "Thus far can I praise him: he is of a noble strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick; and I," he added, to James and Frank. "With your two helps,will so practice on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice." He grinned. "If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift."

0o0o0o0

Eleanor broke the kiss she and Remus had been sharing as the players left the stage, laughing; the scenery shifted again, dizzyingly, back to the well-furnished room of Don John.

0o0o0o0

"It is so," cried Sirius, striding onstage unhappily. "The Count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato."

"Yea, my lord," said Nathan, following him. "But I can cross it."

Sirius span, angrily.

"Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me," he spat. "I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?"

"Not honestly, my lord," said Nathan, with a grin. "But so covertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me."

"Show me briefly how," instructed Sirius, his head to one side.

"I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero," said Nathan.

"I remember," nodded Sirius.

"I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window."

"What life is in that to be the death of this marriage?"

"The poison of that lies in you to temper," said Nathan, leading his Prince back offstage.


	29. Act II, Scene iii and Act III, Scene i

'_Acting is half shame, half glory. Shame at exhibiting yourself, glory when you can forget yourself' – John Gielgud_

0o0o0o0

Sirius high-fived Remus as he came offstage, and everyone nearby sighed with relief; it had been bloody weird to have the two of them fighting.

Remus grabbed a deckchair and strode out onto the stage, which now resembled a garden full of flowers, hedges and a great fountain.

0o0o0o0

"Boy!" he shouted, and Dorothy, dressed as a boy, came hurrying out of the opposite hedge.

"Signior?" she asked.

"In my chamber window lies a book," he said. "Bring it hither to me in the orchard."

"I am here already, sir," complained Dorothy.

"I know that, but I would have thee hence and here again!" he cried, and Dorothy stamped off back the way she had come, her face like thunder.

Remus sighed.

"I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love." He pulled a face and sat on the edge of the fountain, abandoning his deckchair for the time being. "And such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife," he said, punching the air, manfully; the audience chuckled. "And now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe. I have known when he would have walked ten miles afoot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet." He stood and picked up a stone from the path, weighing it in his hand. "He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet – just so many strange dishes." He shook his head: "May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not. I will not be sworn but love may transform me into an _oyster_," he said, making another face to general amusement. "But I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me he shall never make me such a fool." He threw the stone, which skimmed over the surface of the pond before sinking with an audible 'plop'. "One woman is fair, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well. But till all graces be in _one_ woman, one woman shall not come in my grace."

He sat back down on the fountain and gazed thoughtfully out into the audience.

"Rich, she shall be, that's certain," he said, and the audience laughed, appreciatively. "Wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her…" he closed his eyes in happy contemplation of his goddess. "_Mild_, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse…" he opened his eyes again, and ticked the rest of his 'graces' off on his fingers, to a burble of amusement. "An excellent musician, and her hair…" he paused. "…shall be of what colour it please God."

He watched Algernon, Frank, James and Ferdy enter from the opposite hedge, followed by a variety of others.

"Ha," he said, unenthusiastically. "The Prince and Monsieur Love. I will hide me in the arbour."

He seized his deckchair and hid behind one of the hedges, concealed from the players but not from the audience. Temporarily giving up on the chair, he leaned himself against the hedge to watch them.

"Come, shall we hear this music?" called out Algernon.

"Yea, my good lord," smiled James. "How still the evening is, as hushed on purpose to grace harmony!"

"See you where Benedick hath hidden himself?" Algernon asked James, sitting on the edge of the fountain to enjoy the music.

"O, very well, my lord," James grinned, impishly. "The music ended, we'll fit the kid fox with a pennyworth."

"Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again," said Algernon, beckoning to Ferdy.

"O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once," he said, half-heartedly.

"It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection," said Algernon. "I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more."

"Because you talk of wooing, I will sing," said Ferdy, smiling. "Since many a wooer doth commence his suit to her he thinks not worthy, yet he woos, yet he will swear he loves."

"Nay, pray thee come," said Algernon, genially. "Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, do it in notes."

"Note this before my notes: there's not a note of mine worth the noting!" grinned Ferdy, and he beckoned to some of the household to join him.

"Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks!" cried Algernon. "Note notes, forsooth and nothing!"

Kelly, Miriam and Ivy came forward, dressed in pleasant costumes, and settled themselves beside the fountain, instruments poised; Peter wandered over, amiable in his Franciscan robes. Somewhere in the audience, the Fat Friar cackled at the obvious caricature of himself.

Behind his hedge, Remus turned to the audience and rolled his eyes.

"Now divine air!" he cried. "Now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? Well a horn for my money, when all's done."

The audience sniggered, but then Ferdy and Peter began to sing, and the many-headed-beast sat back to enjoy the harmony.

"_Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,_

_Men were deceivers ever,_

_One foot in sea, and one on shore,_

_To one thing constant never._

"_Then sigh not so,_

_But let them go,_

_And be you blithe and bonny,_

_Converting all your sounds of woe_

_Into hey nonny, nonny._

"_Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,_

_Of dumps so dull and heavy;_

_The fraud of men was ever so,_

_Since summer first was leavy._

"_Then sigh not so,_

_But let them go,_

_And be you blithe and bonny,_

_Converting all your sounds of woe_

_Into hey nonny, nonny._"

Algernon waited for the well-deserved storm of applause to die down before continuing; neither Ferdy nor Peter could quite keep the grins off their faces.

"By my troth, a good song," Algernon complimented.

"And an ill singer, my lord," apologised Ferdy.

"Ha, no, no, faith!" cried Algernon. "Thou singest well enough for a shift."

Remus turned to the audience once more, and set them cackling with his scorn.

"And had he been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him; and I pray his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the night raven, come what plague could have come after it."

"Yea, marry. Dost thou hear, Balthasar?" asked Algernon. "I pray thee get us some excellent music; for tomorrow night we would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber window."

"The best I can, my lord," said Ferdy, with a small bow.

"Do so, farewell," nodded Algernon as Ferdy, Peter and the band ambled off merrily. He turned to Frank, who was fiddling with one of his roses, and James, who was wandering along the stone edge of the fountain. "Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of today?"

Behind his hedge, Remus was doing a reasonable job of ignoring them and trying to put up his deckchair.

Algernon continued:

"That your niece Beatrice was in love with Signior Benedick?"

The deckchair collapsed under Remus as he sat on it, and he scrambled to his feet, astonished; the audience chortled.

"O, ay!" cried James, coming over to them; he added, in a lower voice, "Stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits." He winked at Algernon before continuing in a louder voice: "I never did think that lady would have loved any man."

"No, nor I either," said Frank; in the background, Remus had entirely forgotten the deckchair and was peering through the hedge in shock. "But most wonderful that she should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor."

Remus turned to the audience, eyes wide in disbelief (and possibly terror).

"Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?" he turned back to the others as the audience sniggered.

"By my troth, my lord," insisted Frank. "I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought."

"May be she doth but counterfeit," suggested Algernon.

"O God, counterfeit?" cried Frank, loudly. "There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it!"

"Why, what effects of passion shows she?" asked Algernon; Remus was watching with rapt attention.

"Bait the hook well," hissed James. "This fish will bite!"

"What effects, my lord?" asked Frank, faltering a little. "She will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how."

"She did indeed," confirmed James.

"How, how, I pray you?" insisted Algernon; Frank looked momentarily bewildered, but then he grinned and beckoned his companions closer. He whispered urgently to them for a few seconds.

"You amaze me!" cried Algernon, drawing back. "I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection."

"I would have sworn it had, my lord," agreed Frank. "Especially against Benedick."

Remus turned, once more, to the audience, and said, in a voice a little higher than normal:

"I should think this a trick but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it," he paused, staring out in amazement. "Knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence."

The audience (who all knew Professor Dumbledore, after all) howled with laughter at this.

"He hath ta'en th'infection," hissed James, with a quick glance at his friend. "Hold it up."

"Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?" Algernon enquired, returning to sit on the fountain's edge.

"No, and she swears she never will," sighed Leonato, joining his Prince. "That's her torment."

"'Tis true indeed," confirmed James. "So your daughter says. 'Shall I,' says she, 'that have so oft encount'red him with scorn, write to him that I love him?'"

"This says she now when she is beginning to write to him," nodded Frank, sagely. "For she'll be up twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smock till she hath writ a sheet of paper. My daughter tells us all."

James chuckled.

"Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of," he said.

"O, when she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found 'Benedick' and 'Beatrice' between the sheet?" chuckled Frank; the audience sniggered.

"That."

"O, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence, railed at herself that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her," Frank declared. "'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I should flout him if he writ to me. Yea, though I love him, I should.'"

Frank nodded slightly to James that is was his turn; he took up the challenge with gusto.

"Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses – 'O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!'"

"She doth indeed," nodded Frank, emphatically. "My daughter says so; and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself!"

Remus paused in his eavesdropping to share a look of utter disbelief with the audience; some of whom were now crying with laughter.

"It is very true," Frank was saying.

"It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it," said Algernon.

"To what end?" asked James, sitting beside his Prince. "He would make but a sport of it and torment the poor lady worse."

"And he should, it were an alms to hang him!" cried Algernon, hotly. "She's an excellent sweet lady, and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous."

"And she is exceeding wise," added James.

"In everything but loving Benedick," said Algernon, and everyone except Remus laughed.

"O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath the victory," Frank declared, shaking his head. "I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian."

"I would she had bestowed this dotage on me," remarked Algernon, truthfully, scratching his chin. "I would have daffed all other respects and made her half myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it and hear what'a will say.

"Were it good, think you?" asked Frank, concerned.

"Hero thinks surely she will die," said James, glumly. "For she says she will die if he love her not, and she will die ere she make her love known, and she will die, if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness."

"She doth well," Algernon conceded. "If she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit."

Remus scoffed loudly at this, and was forced to press himself against the side of the hedge as they all looked around, surprised that he would reveal himself.

Frank shrugged and they continued.

"He is a very proper man," said James, grudgingly.

"He hath indeed a good outward happiness," admitted Algernon.

"Before God, and in my mind, very wise," said James.

"He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit," Algernon conceded; Remus narrowed his eyes, to general amusement.

"And I take him to be valiant," nodded James.

"As Hector, I assure you," said Algernon, soberly; Remus preened. "And in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise, for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christianlike fear."

"If he do fear God, 'a must necessarily keep peace," said Frank. "If he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling."

"And so will he do," said Algernon. "For the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests he will make. Well," he sighed. "I am sorry for your niece. Shall we go seek Benedick and tell him of her love?"

"Never tell him my lord," James advised. "Let her wear it out with good counsel."

"Nay, that's impossible," insisted Frank. "She may wear her heart out first."

"Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter," said Algernon. "Let it cool the while. I love Benedick well, and I could wish he modestly examine himself to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady."

There was a pause as they all nodded, allowing the audience to get back its breath.

"My lord, will you walk?" asked Frank. "Dinner is ready."

The three of them walked away cheerily, as though the conversation had not taken place; the audience swiftly dissolved once more into giggles.

They paused beyond the far hedge and leant close together.

"If he do not dote on her upon this," hissed James, excitedly. "I will never trust my expectation."

"Let there be the same net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry," said Algernon, in a stage whisper. "The sport will be, then they hold one an opinion of the other's dotage, and no such matter. That's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show." He sniggered. "Let us send her to call him in to dinner!"

They hurried offstage, snickering.

Remus practically fell out of his hiding place, feet caught on the deckchair. Righting himself, he stumbled forward, staring in wonder.

"This can be no trick!" he cried, and the audience roared with laughter. "The conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero!" He clapped a hand to his forehead, as if reeling. "They seem to pity the lady; it seems her affections have their full bent." He looked out into the audience. "Love me?" He laughed. "Why, it _must_ be requited!"

The audience were beside themselves; he controlled his happily astounded expression, allowing it to become serious.

"I hear how I am censured. They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection," he paused, and continued in wonder: "I did never think… to _marry_…"

"I must not seem proud," he said, sternly. "Happy are those that hear their detractions and can put them to mending." He sat on the fountain edge, apparently thinking. "They say the lady is fair – 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous – 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise," he chuckled. "But for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly; for I will be _horribly_ in love with her!"

He stood, excited, and the audience cried with mirth; for once, he seemed to hear them, and paused.

"I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter?" he asked the world at large, shrugging. "A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No!" he insisted. "The world must be peopled!"

The many-headed-beast of the audience snorted as he walked around the fountain; he paused again by the far hedge and turned back towards the audience.

"When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married," he said, as if trying to convince himself of this. He nodded, firmly, at his own logic and made to leave the stage.

He was gone for nearly a second before he came haring back in again.

"Ahh! Here comes Beatrice," he said, looking around anxiously. "By this day, she's a fair lady. I do spy some marks of love in her."

The audience laughed even harder as Eleanor appeared behind one of the hedges, looking a good deal more like she wanted to stab something than as if she were in love. Remus arranged himself on the fountain in a way that he clearly thought was attractive (to more guffaws from the audience) as Eleanor came through the hedge.

She gave him a look that suggested she thought he was Up To Something as he smiled beatifically up at her.

"Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner," she said, hands on hips; her tone suggested that whoever had taken the task of making her come out was going to find it very hard indeed. She made to stalk off, but Remus stopped her.

"Fair Beatrice," he called. "I thank you for your pains."

Eleanor stared at him, then looked around as if expecting James to jump out at her at any second.

"I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me," she said, hotly, bewildered. "If it had been painful, I would not have come."

"You take pleasure then, in the message?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow, playfully.

"Yea," said she. "Just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal."

He gave a strange little laugh that did nothing but worry her.

"You have no stomach, signior?" she asked. "Fare you well."

She stamped off, and he followed her to the edge of the hedges, watching her go and leaning forward to keep her in sight until he nearly fell over. He turned back to the audience with a wide grin plastered over his face.

"Ha!" he cried, happily. "'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.'" He beamed out into the helpless audience. "There's a double meaning in that."

With that, he leaped across the stage, collected his fallen deckchair, and vanished.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor legged it around the back of the stage, hearing the scenery change as she ran. She waited for Lily and Claire to take their places amongst the flower covered bowers; she caught her breath, inhaling the heavenly scent of summer that Esther and Olivia had somehow managed to provide. Assembling a properly angry expression, she marched out across the back of the stage…

0o0o0o0

Lily and Claire were sat in close conference amongst the flowers.

"Now begin," hissed Lily. "For look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs close by the ground, to hear our conference."

Eleanor stopped by a bower and frowned as though she'd heard them speaking her name; she hovered, uncertainly.

"The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish cut with her golden oars the silver stream and greedily devour the treacherous bait," said Claire, in a stage whisper. "So angle we for Beatrice, who even now is couchèd in the woodbine coverture. Fear you not my part of the dialogue."

Lily beamed.

"No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful," said Lily loudly, and Eleanor pressed herself closer to the bower. "I know her spirits are a coy and wild as haggards of the rock."

Eleanor looked cross, and as if she were about to jump out and demonstrate her coy and wild spirits, but she was stopped in her tracks by Claire's next question.

"But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?" she asked, and Eleanor's eyes widened comically. She ducked behind the bower to peek out of the other side and achieve a better listening post – directly behind them.

"So says the Prince, and my new-trothèd lord," said Lily.

"And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?"

"They did entreat me to acquaint her of it," nodded Lily. "But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, to wish him wrestle with affection and never to let Beatrice know of it."

"Why did you so?" asked Claire, sounding shocked; Eleanor stared at them in open astonishment. "Doth not the gentleman deserve as full a fortunate a bed as ever Beatrice shall couch upon?"

"O god of love!" cried Lily, to Eleanor's surprise. "I know he doth deserve as much as may be yielded to a man; but nature never framed a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice." Eleanor frowned. "Disdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her eyes," continued Lily, loudly. "Misprizing what they look on; and her wit values itself so highly that to her all matter else seems weak." Eleanor was beginning to look quite upset at her cousin's description, but Lily ploughed on, mercilessly. "She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project of affection, she is so self-endeared."

"Sure I think so," said Claire, nodding; Eleanor bit her lip. "And therefore certainly it were not good she knew his love, lest she'll make sport at it."

"Why, you speak truth," agreed Lily. "I never yet saw a man, how wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, but she would spell him backward. If fair-faced, she would swear the gentleman should be her sister; if tall, a lance ill-headed; if low, an agate very vilely cut; if speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; if silent, why, a block moved with none." Eleanor leaned against the bower and looked up at the sky sadly; how could she argue? It was true, after all. "And never gives to truth and virtue that which simpleness and merit purchaseth."

"Sure, sure," agreed Claire. "Such carping is not commendable."

"No, not to be so odd, and from all fashions, as Beatrice is, cannot be commendable," said Lily. "But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, she would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me out of myself, press me to death with with!" Eleanor winced.

"Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, consume away into sighs, waste inwardly," said Lily, and Eleanor turned back to their conversation. "It were a better death than die with mocks, which is as bad as die with tickling.

"Yet tell her of it," Claire urged, and here Eleanor nodded unconsciously. "Hear what she will say."

"No," said Lily, firmly. "Rather I will go to Benedick and counsel him to fight against his passion. And truly, I'll devise some honest slanders to stain my cousin with. One doth not know how much an ill word may empoison liking."

Eleanor scoffed in outrage, slapping her hand across her mouth – stunned at her own reaction.

"O, do not do your cousin such a wrong!" cried Claire, and Eleanor brightened; the audience tittered. "She cannot be so much without true judgement (having so swift and excellent a wit as she is prized to have) as to refuse so rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick."

Eleanor's mouth fell open in shock as the audience sniggered.

"He is the only man of Italy," said Lily, and Eleanor gaped at her. "Always excepted my dear Claudio."

"I pray you not be angry with me, madam, speaking my fancy," said Claire, candidly. "Signior Benedick, for shape, for bearing, argument, and valour, goes foremost in report through Italy."

"Indeed, he hath an excellent good name," agreed Lily, happily.

"His excellence did earn it ere he had it," said Claire, wisely; she smiled. "When are you married, madam?"

"Why, everyday tomorrow!" Lily cried, blithely. "Come, go in. I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel which is the best to furnish me tomorrow."

They walked to the edge of the stage, a bower between them and Eleanor, who was still doing an admirable impression of a goldfish.

"She's limed, I warrant you!" hissed Claire, excitedly. "We have caught her, madam."

Lily beamed.

"If it prove so, then loving goes by haps; some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps!"

They hurried offstage, giggling.

Eleanor came out of her hiding place and sat, weakly, on their vacated seat.

"What fire is in mine ears?" she asked, wonderingly. "Can this be true? Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much?"

She shook herself, staring out into the audience.

"Contempt, farewell!" she cried, determinedly. "And maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such." She wavered a little, smiling tenderly. "And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee," she said, breathlessly. "Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand. If thou dost love, my kindness will incite thee to bind our loves up in a holy band; for others say thou dost deserve, and I believe it better than reportingly!" she cried, laughing, and hurried off after her cousin and Claire.


	30. Act III, Scene ii and iii

'_A walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more' – William Shakespeare_

0o0o0o0

Algernon, James, Frank, Severus and Remus were arrayed around a great feasting table, laden with the remains of food; most of them were merry and had plainly been drinking. Remus was sat slightly away from the others, brooding into the cup he was nursing; his friends kept glancing at him in open amusement. Occasionally he would reach up and scratch his beardless chin.

"I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then I go toward Aragon," said Algernon, draining his cup.

"I'll bring you thither, my lord," said James, cheerily. "If you'll vouchsafe me."

"Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as to show a child his new coat and forbid him to wear it," said Algernon. "I will only be bold with Benedick for his company," he glanced at his friend and, noticing his inattention, continued more loudly: "For, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. He hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bowstring and the little hangman dare not shoot at him." He winked at James and Frank. "He hath a heart as sound as a bell; and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks, his tongue speaks."

James pushed the back of Remus's stool with his boot, rocking his friend out of his contemplation.

He looked up, startled, and seeing that everyone was looking at him in amusement; he cleared his throat.

"Gallants," he said, sombrely. "I am not as I have been."

"So say I," declared Frank, merrily. "Methinks you are sadder."

They all laughed, along with the audience; Remus looked a little miffed.

"I hope he be in love," teased James; Remus shot him a look as their companions made a sort of collective, cajoling 'oooh' noise.

"Hang him truant?" exclaimed Algernon, laughing. "There's no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love. If he be sad, he wants money."

"I have the toothache," said Remus, shortly.

"Draw it," suggested Algernon, abruptly.

"Hang it!" Remus shot back, with barely a thought.

"You must hang it first and draw it afterwards," observed James, waggling his cup at Remus.

"What? Sigh for the toothache?" asked Algernon, teasing his friend.

"Where is but a humour or a worm," said Frank, over his brother's guffaws.

"Well, everyone can master a grief but he that has it," Remus grumbled, refilling his cup.

"Yet I say he is in love," James insisted, with a wink at Algernon; Severus and Frank met each others' eyes and burst out laughing. Remus scowled at them all.

"There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be a fancy he hath to strange disguises," Algernon observed, with a sly grin. "As to be a Dutchman today, a Frenchman tomorrow; or in the shape of two countries at once, as a German from the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appear he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is," Algernon concluded, to much mirth on the audience's part.

"If he be not in love with some woman, there is no believing old signs," James scoffed. "'a brushes his hat o' mornings. What should that bode?"

Algernon conceded his point with a nod.

"Hath any man seen him at the barber's?" he asked.

"No," cried James, gleefully. "But the barber's man hath been seen with him, and the old ornament of his cheek hath already stuffed tennis balls."

"Indeed he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard," remarked Frank.

Remus ignored them, choosing instead to concentrate on his drink.

"Nay, 'a rubs himself with civet," said Algernon, grinning. "Can you smell him out by that?"

"That's as much to say, the sweet youth's in love," teased James.

"The greatest note of it is his melancholy," agreed Algernon, nodding.

"And when was he wont to wash his face?" asked James, prodding Remus in the shoulder; Remus ignored him.

"Yea, or to paint himself?" asked Algernon, laughing. "For the which I hear what they say of him."

"Nay, but his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lutestring," chortled James. "And now governed by stops."

"Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him," said Algernon, winking at Frank and Severus. "Conclude, conclude, he is in love."

"Nay, but I know who loves him," said James slyly, and Remus frowned into his cup.

"That would I know too," said Algernon, eagerly. "I warrant, one that knows him not."

"Yes, and his ill conditions," said James. "And in despite of all, dies for him."

"She will be buried with her face upwards," joked Algernon.

Remus glowered at him.

"Yet this is no charm for the toothache," he said, shortly, and rose. "Old signior, walk aside with me," he said, to Frank. "I have studied eight or nine wise word to speak to you, which these hobby-horses must not hear."

He stalked out, and Frank and Severus made to follow him, pausing for a moment to share a comically sombre expression with James and Algernon; all four burst out laughing and the older gentlemen left, supporting one another.

"For my life," cried Algernon, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "To break with him about Beatrice!"

"'Tis even so," laughed James. "Hero and Margaret have by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet."

The two men shook hands in recognition of a job well done.

"My lord and brother, God save you," said Sirius, striding in; both James and Algernon straightened slightly, smiles faltering a little.

"Good den, brother," said Algernon, civilly.

"If your leisure served, I would speak with you," said Sirius.

"In private?" asked Algernon, with a slight frown; James made to leave, but Sirius stopped him.

"If it please you," he said, earnestly. "Yet Count Claudio may hear, for what I would speak of concerns him."

Algernon and James shared a look.

"What's the matter?" Algernon asked, all levity gone.

Sirius turned to James with a sober look.

"Means your lordship to be married tomorrow?" he asked.

"You know he does," said Algernon, frowning.

"I know not that, when he knows what I know," said Sirius, darkly.

"If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it," said James, suddenly tense.

"You may think I love you not," said Sirius, earnestly, and the audience scoffed. "Let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I will now manifest. For my brother (I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart) hath holp to effect your ensuing marriage – surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed!"

The two young lords were staring at Sirius with some mixture of anger and confusion now, and not a little suspicion.

"Why, what's the matter?" Algernon demanded.

"I came hither to tell you, and circumstances short'ned (for she has been too long a-talking of), the lady is disloyal," Sirius exclaimed, to gasps from the audience.

"Who?" asked James. "Hero?"

"Even she," said Sirius, sombrely. "Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero."

"Disloyal?" asked James, visibly staggered.

"The word is too good to paint out her wickedness," said Sirius, with a scowl. "I could say she were worse. Think you of a worse title and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till further warrant." He paused, relishing their rapt attention. "Go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber window ent'red, even the night before her wedding day. But it would better fit your honour to change your mind."

"May this be so?" asked James, appalled.

"I will not think it," said Algernon firmly.

"If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know," said Sirius, reasonably. "If you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly."

"If I see anything tonight why I should not marry her tomorrow," said James, angrily. "In the congregation where I should wed, there will I shame her."

"And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join thee to disgrace her," Algernon growled.

"I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses," said Sirius. "Bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself."

"O day untowardly turned!" cried Algernon.

"O mischief strangely thwarting!" lamented James.

"O plague right well prevented!" exclaimed Sirius. "So will you say when you have seen the sequel."

James and Algernon left, Algernon pausing to clasp his brother's shoulder before he passed him.

Sirius looked out into the audience and allowed an evil grin to develop on his features, very slowly. Turning, he filched an apple from their abandoned feast; he laughed evilly and with satisfaction before following them.

0o0o0o0

"Remind me not to annoy you," someone whispered to Sirius as he dove backstage; turning, he found Dorothy Cottingley watching him with amusement, leaning against one of the supports of the stage. He managed to grin despite the butterflies that were swarming in his stomach.

"But you're so good at it," he hissed back.

She gave him an odd look and walked off.

He shook his head to try to clear it. With any other girl (and some guys) he was cool, calm and collected; he could, he knew, charm the pants off anyone.

_Except her_.

He looked around: James was helping Lily with her nightgown for one of the next scenes, the two of them laughing and joking; Frank and Alice were watching the next scene unfold from the wings, arm in arm; Claire and Peter were going through a song they were due to sing later on in the play. He couldn't see Severus anywhere, he realised, but he wasn't particularly worried.

_Probably nipped out to the bathroom,_ he thought.

His eyes came to rest on Remus and Eleanor, who were off to one side, quietly leaning into one another; their eyes were closed, but they were clearly paying attention to the dialogue on stage – periodically one or the other of them would smile. They were simply enjoying one another's proximity.

Well, it was about time.

He smiled, wryly, equally glad for them and sorry for himself.

Sighing, he pulled himself together. It was a sad state of affairs if Peter and Remus could get girlfriends and Hogwarts' resident Casanova couldn't; it was time to remedy this (or at least end it).

He walked over to Dorothy, who was idly toying with her programme; she put it down as he approached.

"Alright?" he asked, mentally kicking himself. _Smooth, Sirius. Smooth_, he thought.

"Alright…" she said suspiciously. Then: "Ok, I know I'm not on stage now until the wedding, but _please_ don't turn my hair green or anything."

"I wasn't going to," said Sirius, hurriedly. "Although now that you mention it…"

"Oh shut up," she huffed, crossing her arms.

He took her in, cheeks a little pink from arguing with him; strands of her silvery hair were escaping from their tie. Her brown eyes flashed.

This wasn't going well. Sirius swallowed.

"I won't turn your hair green," he said, quietly.

"What?"

"I like it the colour it is," he admitted, staring at his feet.

"You do?" asked Dorothy, after a pause, sounding quite surprised.

"Yeah…"

"Oh… well, thanks," she said, uncertainly.

He risked a glance at her: she was watching him with open curiosity now.

"You're welcome," he managed, weakly.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked. "You're not yourself."

"I'm fine," he said, quickly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, and made room for him on the bench beside her; he sat, fingering the hem of his jacket.

"Kind of," he said. "I'm thinking of doing something really stupid," he said, and laughed at himself. "Not that that's anything new…"

"What kind of stupid?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm; he gulped.

"Oh, er… the heart-breaking, soul-crushing, bloody foolish kind of stupid," he mumbled, and to his surprise, she laughed.

"I don't believe it!" she giggled. "You're in love! Ha! Oh, I – I'm sorry," she managed, at his mortified and gaping expression. "It's just – well, you've never struck me as a fall-in-love kind of person."

"I'm not… well, I wasn't," he conceded.

"How long have you been… well," she sniggered. "Incapacitated?"

Despite himself, he stuck his tongue out and laughed.

"About a year," he admitted, and it was her turn to gape.

"A year? Wow… you must really like her…" she said, and Sirius thought he could detect a slight note of disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah… and I'm not good enough for her."

"Have you spoken to her about it?" she asked, more quietly. "I mean, with you and Trixie being so far apart it can't be easy…"

"Trixie?" he asked, perplexed.

"Well, yes," she said, surprised. "I thought – so it's not Trixie?"

"No," he said, carefully.

"Oh…" she said in a small voice. "Well then, who?" she asked, frowning, and Sirius had to shake himself to stop being distracted by the incredibly cute way she wrinkled up her nose.

"Erm…"

"You don't have to tell me," she said, hurriedly. "But if you ever, you know, want to talk or whatever, I'll be here…"

He couldn't for the life of him work out why she was babbling like that, but it gave him a little bit of hope that she wanted to be such a good friend to him. Gingerly, he reached out and tucked the errant strands of hair behind her ear.

Dorothy stared at him.

"Dorothy," he asked, biting his lip. "Would you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

And he leaned in, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

She looked, for about thirty seconds, like she were about to slap him (and she later admitted that she had definitely considered it), but she caught his hand instead.

"_You_ want to go to Hogsmeade with _me_?" she asked, with quiet urgency.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"_Why_?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well," he began, letting out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Because you're kind, and pretty, and smart, and lovely, and just a little bit evil, and I… I really like you," he finished, lamely.

"Oh…" she said. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Oh…" Dorothy frowned. "All this time?" she asked.

"Yes," he breathed, so quietly that she nearly missed it.

There was a pause, and in it Sirius remembered the millions of reasons why she was absolutely going to turn him down. Any second now.

"Ok," she said, equally quietly.

"It's ok, it's fine if you don't want t-" he paused as his internal universe rearranged itself. "What?"

"I said: 'ok'," she said, and smiled.

Sirius's mouth formed a perfect 'o' and Dorothy laughed.

"I can't promise to be any of those wonderful things you appear to think I am, but I would very much like to go with you to Hogsmeade," she paused, and gripped his hand a little tighter. "And I absolutely don't believe you when you say you aren't good enough for me. I mean – look at me," she said, gesturing at herself. "I'm short and dumpy, and have the fashion sense of a niffler, and –"

"I think you're beautiful," said Sirius, truthfully, and kissed her hand.

"You do?" she asked, weakly. "Oh."

"I don't want you to feel threatened or anything," he said, hurriedly. "Merlin knows my reputation would scare anyone, but –"

"We'll worry about all that on Saturday," she said firmly. "When we have time to talk properly. Until then, we can both pretend that the other isn't about to see reason and change their minds."

"Ravenclaw logic to the rescue, as ever," said Sirius, grinning.

"Well, I wouldn't need it if a certain Gryffindor's courage hadn't held up," she teased.

They beamed at one another.

0o0o0o0

The stage was now a dark street, lit with lanterns.

Wilbur Crabbe, Crispin Spinnet and Helbert Boxley were stood talking in one corner, all three dressed in a strange conglomeration of hand-me-down armour. They quickly stood to attention as Dane Abercrombie and Simon Underhill strode in; Dane and Simon had made themselves appear so greasy and untidy that the three watchmen shared a look of disdain before maintaining their station.

"Are you good men and true?" asked Dane, inspecting his troops.

"Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer salvation, body and soul," cried Simon; the audience chuckled.

"Nay, that were a punishment too good for them if they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Prince's watch," said Dane, sombrely.

"Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry."

"First," said Dane. "Who think you the most desartless man to be constable?"

"Hugh Oatcake, sir," said Wilbur, smartly. "Or George Seacole, for they can write and read."

"Come hither, neighbour Seacole," beckoned Dane, slicking his brown hair back over his head in a way that made people on the front row cringe. "God hath blessed you with a good name. To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature."

There was that strange feeling in the air of quite a few people desperately trying to figure out what in blazes the man had just said; Dane and Simon had become experts at eliciting such a response.

"Both which, Master Constable –" Crispin began, but he was cut off.

"You have," said Dane, nodding sagely. "I knew it would be your answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks and make no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there is no need of such vanity." He patted him absently on the shoulder, and Crisipin looked like he were fighting the urge to brush down his coat. "You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch. Therefore bear you the lanthorn. This is your charge," he announced, proudly. "You shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the Prince's name."

"How if 'a will not stand?" asked Crispin, staring up at the taller man.

"Why then," said Dane, slowly, as if he were thinking about this. "Take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the watch together and thank God you are rid of a knave."

"If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the Prince's subjects," added Simon, with a flash of sudden inspiration.

"True," Dane mused. "And they are to meddle with none _but_ the Prince's subjects."

He walked along the row and back again, enjoying his power.

"You shall also make no noise in the streets," he instructed. "For, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable, and not to be endured."

(Alice, watching from the sidelines, glimpsed more than a few people's eyes crossing as they tried to follow the dialogue; Dogberry and Verges had that sort of effect on people.)

"We will rather sleep than talk," said Helbert, a stout, red-faced boy. The audience snickered. "We know what belongs to a watch."

"Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend," declared Dane, not inaccurately; the sniggers increased in volume. "Only, have a care that your bills be not stol'n." He clapped Helbert on the back, making him stagger slightly. "Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses and bid those that are drunk get them to bed," he told them."

"How if they will not?" asked Wilbur, uncertainly.

"Why then, let them alone till they are sober," cried Dogberry, cheerily, to a burble of mirth from the audience. "If they make you not then the better answer, you may say they are not then men you took them for."

"Well, sir," the watchmen chorused, obediently.

"If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue of your office, to be no true man," said Dane, brushing very real dirt from his lapel. "And for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty."

"If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on him?" asked Wilbur, his forehead creased.

"Truly, by your office you may," Dane conceded. "But I think they that touch pitch will be defiled. The more peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your company."

"You have been always called a merciful man, partner," said Simon, ingratiatingly.

The audience laughed; there was a weird kind of logic to the approach.

"Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will," said Dane, humbly; he steepled his fingers in what he obviously thought was a pious manner. "Much more a man who hath any honesty in him."

"If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to the nurse and bid her still it," said Simon, enthusiastically.

"How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us?" asked Crispin.

"Why then," began Dane, who appeared to have an answer for every eventuality. "Depart in peace and let the child wake her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats.

"'Tis very true," nodded Simon.

"This is the end of the charge," said Dane, clearly getting to a bit he liked. "You, constable, are to present the Prince's own person. If you meet the Prince in the night, you may stay him."

"Nay, b'yr lady, that I think 'a cannot," Simon hissed, urgently.

The men of the watch shared a look that spoke volumes about their opinion of Dogberry's sanity.

"Five shillings to the one on't, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him!" the man barked. "Marry, not without the Prince be willing; for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will."

"B'yr lady, I think it be so!" exclaimed Simon, happily.

Dane gave a great shout of laughter that made the men of the watch jump nearly a foot in the air.

"Well, masters, good night," he cried. "And there be any matter of weight chances, call up me. Keep your fellows' counsels and your own, and good night. Come, neighbour," he said, taking Simon roughly by the shoulder and marching him offstage.

As one man, the watch relaxed.

"Well, masters," said Crispin. "We hear our charge. Let us go sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all to bed."

They straightened up abruptly as Dogberry and Verges marched back in, the latter massaging his arm.

"One word more, honest neighbours," said Dane, imperiously. "I pray you to watch about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight. Adieu," he said, with a great flourish. "Be vigilant, I beseech you."

He marched offstage, Simon scurrying after him like a kicked puppy.

The watch shared a look, before shaking their heads. They were beginning to slouch their way offstage when a shout went up in the wings.

"What, Conrade!"

"Peace! Stir not!" hissed Crispin, and pulled his two companions into the cover of a shadowy doorway.

"Conrade, I say!" bellowed Nathan, weaving drunkenly onstage; Thomas followed him, with a rather pained expression.

"Here, man," he said, exasperated. "I am at your elbow."

"Mass," Nathan swore. "And my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow." He cackled and spat on the floor; Thomas gave him a look that suggested he'd seen more civilised things crawling out from beneath a stone.

"I will owe thee an answer for that," he said, in clipped tones. "And now forward with thy tale."

"Some treason, masters," hissed Helbert. "Yet stand close."

"Therefore know I have eared of Don John a thousand ducats," laughed Nathan, flopping down onto a bench.

"Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear?" asked Thomas, surprised. He sat beside his ally.

"Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich," said Nathan taking a swig of his jug. "For when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will."

"I wonder at it," said Conrade, refusing the proffered receptacle.

"That show thou art unconfirmed," Nathan scoffed, and Thomas glared at him. "Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak is nothing to a man."

"Yes, it is apparel."

"I mean the fashion."

"Yes, the fashion is the fashion."

"Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool," Nathan cried. "But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is?"

"I know that Deformed," hissed Wilbur, insistently. "'a has been a vile thief this seven year; 'a goes up and down like a gentleman. I remember his name."

"Didst thou not hear somebody?" asked Nathan, frowning and looking up.

"No," said Thomas. "'Twas the vane on the house."

Nathan shrugged and took another drink of whatever was in the jug.

"Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? How giddily 'a turns about all the hotbloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty?"

"All this I see," said Thomas, tartly. "And I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art thou not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?"

"Not so, neither," said Nathan. "But know that I have tonight wooed Margeret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the name of Hero." He gave a dirty snigger as Thomas grinned. "She leans me out at her mistress' chamber window, bids me a thousand times good night. I tell this tale vilely – I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off in the orchard this… _amiable_ encounter."

"And thought they Margaret was Hero?" asked Thomas, amazed.

"Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio," Nathan chuckled, drunkenly. "But the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy," he boasted. "Which did confirm any slander that Don John had made, away went Claudio _enraged_; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there, before the whole congregation, shame her with what he saw o'ernight and send her home again without a husband."

The two of them roared with laughter; the watch decided that this was their time to act.

"We charge you in the Prince's name stand!" bellowed Wilbur, leaping forth from his hiding place like a raging bull. Nathan and Thomas scrambled to their feet in surprise; drunk as he was, Nathan stumbled, grabbing at Thomas to keep himself upright, and the two of them fell, in a tangle, on the floor.

"Call up the right Master Constable!" shouted Helbert. "We have here recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known in the commonwealth!"

Crispin ran offstage, presumably to find Dane.

"And one Deformed is one of them," said Wilbur gruffly. "I know 'im; 'a wears a lock."

"Master, masters –" said Thomas, hands out in a placating manner.

"You'll be made bring the Deformed forth, I warrant you," said Helbert.

Nathan and Thomas shared a look and took off, shooting offstage.

With identical cries of rage, Wilbur and Helbert rattled after them, waving their pikes and shouting.


	31. End of Act III

'_Any long work in which poetry is persistent, be it epic or drama or narrative, is really a succession of separate poetic experiences governed into a related whole by an energy distinct from that which evoked them' – John Drinkwater_

0o0o0o0

Claire and Alice were bustling energetically about a dressing room spread with fine clothes ready for the wedding.

Lily came in, yawning.

"Good Ursula," she smiled. "Wake my cousin Beatrice and desire her to rise."

"I will, lady," said Claire.

"And bid her come hither," Lily instructed.

"Well," said Claire, and scurried offstage.

"Troth, I think your other rabato were better," Alice remarked, inspecting her lady's wedding clothes.

"No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this," said Lily, sleepily.

"By my troth, 's not so good," said Margaret, dubiously. "And I warrant your cousin will say so.

"My cousin's a fool, and thou art another," said Lily, good-naturedly. "I'll wear none but this."

"I like the new tire within excellently," Alice observed. "If the hair were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's gown that they praise so."

"O, that exceeds, they say."

"By my troth, 's but a nightgown in respect of yours," she grinned. "Cloth o' gold and cuts, and laced with silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side-sleeves, and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel. But for a fine, quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't," she insisted, and Lily smiled.

"God give me joy to wear it," said she. "For my heart is exceeding heavy."

"'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man," said Alice, with a wry grin; the audience snickered, and then laughed in earnest at the way Lily was blushing.

"Fie upon thee!" cried Lily. "Art not ashamed?"

"Of what, lady?" asked Alice, innocently. "Of speaking honourably? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord honourable without marriage? I think you would rather have me say, 'saving your reverence, a husband.' And bad thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend nobody." She smoothed out a wrinkle in the skirt before her, expertly. "Is there any harm in 'the heavier for a husband?'" she asked, cheekily. "None, I think, and it be the right husband and the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not heavy. Ask my lady Beatrice else. Here she comes."

Eleanor wandered in, stretching sleepily.

"Good morrow, coz," said Lily, happily.

"Good morrow, sweet Hero," said Eleanor, kissing her cousin's cheek.

"Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?"

"I am out of all other tune, methinks," said Eleanor, with a shrug.

"Clap's into 'Light o' Love'," Alice grinned. "That goes without a burden. Do you sing it and I'll dance it."

"Ye light o' love with your heels!" said Eleanor, grumpily. "Then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see that he'll lack no barns."

The older members of the audience chuckled.

"O illegitimate construction!" cried Alice. "I scorn that with my heels."

"'Tis not almost five o'clock cousin," said Eleanor, ignoring her friend. "'Tis time you were ready. By my troth, I am exceedingly ill."

"Well, and you not be turned Turk, there's no more sailing by the star," remarked Alice, looking her up and down.

"What means the fool, trow?" Eleanor wondered aloud, raising a perfunctory eyebrow.

"Nothing I," said Alice, sweetly, earning a giggle from the audience. "But God send everyone their heart's desire!"

"These gloves the Count sent me, they are an excellent perfume," Lily interrupted, diplomatically. She waved them at Eleanor, but she shook her head.

"I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell," she said.

"A maid, and stuffed!" exclaimed Alice, feigning shock. "There's goodly catching of cold."

Eleanor put a hand to her head in mock faintness.

"O, God help me! God help me!" she cried. "How long have you professed apprehension?"

"Ever since you left it," Alice grinned, and the audience laughed. "Doth not my wit become me rarely?" she asked, spreading her arms wide.

"It is not seen enough," said Eleanor, approvingly. "You should wear it in your cap." She grimaced. "By my troth, I am sick," she complained.

"Get you some of this distilled _'Carduus Benedictus'_ and lay it to your heart," Alice advised, with a sly wink at Lily. "It is the only thing for a qualm."

"There thou prick'st her with a thistle," said Lily, with a wicked smile.

"'_Benedictus'_? Why _'Benedictus'_?" Eleanor asked, suspiciously, to the audience's giggles. "You have some moral in this _'Benedictus'_."

"Moral?" exclaimed Alice, wide-eyed. "No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning. I meant plain holy thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love," she shook her head. "Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I please; nor I please not to think what I can; nor indeed I cannot think, if you would think my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, or that you can be in love," she concluded, and Eleanor seemed placated.

Lily hid her smile behind one of her newly acquired, perfumed gloves as Alice continued, slyly: "Yet Benedick was such another, and now he is become a man. He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging." She flashed her mistresses a brilliant grin. "And how you may be converted I know not; but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do."

"What pace is this that thy tongue keeps?" Eleanor demanded, startled.

"Not a false gallop," said Alice, turning away slightly to laugh out of sight of Eleanor.

"Madam, withdraw," said Claire, coming back onstage. "The Prince, the Count, Signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the town are come to fetch you to church."

"Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula," said Lily, and the four of them hurried offstage, whisking random garments with them as they went.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor came offstage just in time to see Sirius give Dorothy a gentle peck on the cheek, and grinned as the other girl smiled shyly.

She was glad that that was done with; she still couldn't believe that she'd been so stupid to think he'd been mooning over her.

Approaching the now quite chaotic costumes area, she set the strip of lacy fabric she was carrying down on a table, and tried to unlace her corset; Lily dashed past her, pulling off her nightgown as she went. Claire and Alice, who were already dressed for the wedding, plunged behind the screens after her, to help.

It was difficult work, trying to unlace something in that awkward place behind your back that you couldn't quite reach. Eleanor swore.

"Here," said Remus's voice from behind her. "Let me." She felt his warm fingers bat her hands away.

"Thanks."

"No worries," he said, chuckling. "I always look forward to the opportunity to remove your clothing," he whispered in her ear, and she blushed.

He handed her the corset.

"Give me a hand with the bodice?" she asked, and he grinned.

"I'm glad you know which bit goes where," he said, watching her select a cream coloured garment from amongst an array of apparently identical clothes.

"Practice," she said, slipping her arms into the thing and holding it in place against her stomach. "I'm beginning to appreciate why people had servants – their clothes were so bloody complicated to put on."

He laughed, lacing her up.

"I suppose people made do with helping one another, for the most part," he said, and Eleanor nodded. "Anyway," he went on, "I think this suits you."

"So do I," she laughed. "You can barely keep your hands off me."

"There," he said, grinning. "That should do."

He turned her around and kissed her, tenderly.

"People are staring," she said, quietly.

"Ah, let them," he smiled, rearranging a tendril of hair that was escaping from behind Eleanor's ear. "I've waited so long to be able to do that in public…"

They smiled at one another.

"You can't go to the wedding like that, Signior Mountanto," she teased, coyly, looking over his slightly dishevelled uniform. "You'll disgrace your Prince."

He gave a half-shrug.

"They were being mean to me," he joked, and she giggled.

"Here," she said, straightening his uniform. "You look very dashing, by the way."

"Really? I thought I looked a bit of a tit, to be honest."

Eleanor smiled and shook her head.

"My knight in cream-and-blue coloured armour."

"Shut up," he smiled, and kissed her again.

"You two are sickening," observed Wilbur, ambling past. "But in a good way."

As Eleanor grinned at him, she caught movement behind the piles of scenery that weren't currently being charmed into use.

"I think someone's making out behind the set…" she whispered, and Remus turned to look. "_Don't look_!"

"Why did you say it if I'm not supposed to look?" he asked, perplexed.

"Just… try to be less obvious," she wandered nonchalantly to the far end of the costumes area and pretended to check the fastenings on her shoes.

She sucked in a breath, surprised.

The two people behind the scenery were indeed making out quite enthusiastically, and – now that she'd got a closer look at them – they were unmistakeable.

"Who is it?" asked Remus, still determinedly not looking.

"It's Severus and… and _Algernon_," she hissed; Remus's head shot around.

Sure enough, there they were…

"Merlin's beard!," he gasped. "Well, that's a turn up for the books," said Remus, surprised.

"I was wondering who it could be," said Eleanor, thoughtfully. "I have to say he _did_ cross my mind…"

"What? You knew Severus was gay?"

"I think he's bisexual, actually," said Eleanor, as if they were merely discussing a preference in type of confectionary. "And I knew that whoever he was sweet on was a guy…"

"Wait, when did all this happen?"

"In the summer – someone was writing to him practically every day," she grinned. "I was enjoying winding him up about it. Whoever it was had a large snowy owl, which meant they were unlikely to be muggle-born, and he told me it wasn't a girl."

"Why didn't you tell _me_?" he asked, mildly affronted.

"He asked me not to – sorry," she shrugged. "'In confidence' means 'in confidence', as you well know."

"I suppose that's fair," he said, grudgingly. Remus frowned, then snorted.

"What?"

"The thought of Don Pedro sneaking off to make out with Antonio," he sniggered, and Eleanor burst out laughing.

"Ew – that's my uncle you're talking about!"

"I w-wonder if they're f-finding that the b-b-beard gets in the way," he laughed, clutching at his stomach. "It's one h-hell of a beard, after all!"

"You never know, it c-could be what got them together in the f-f-first place," she giggled.

"What're you two laughing about?" asked Severus.

They both turned to look at him, surreptitiously trying to rearrange his clothes, and entirely lost it; Eleanor collapsed against her boyfriend in peals of laughter, and he clung to her, crying with mirth.

"What?" asked Severus; he checked his costume. "_What_?"

He scowled.

"It's the bloody beard again, isn't it?"

They had been trying to calm down – really they had.

"Excuse me," said Severus, over their helpless giggles. "I'm going to find someone sane…"

"W-wait Severus – I'm sorry!" Eleanor managed.

He paused, and waited until his friends could breathe once more.

"We were laughing because…" she glanced at Remus, who shrugged, unhelpfully. "Well, because we saw you and Algernon –"

Severus gave a start.

"You _did_?" he asked, blushing hotly; then he frowned. "Why was that funny?"

"Because we couldn't get the idea of Don Pedro sneaking off with Antonio out of our heads," Remus explained, and Severus's expression began to clear.

"Actually, that _is_ quite funny…" he snorted, and they grinned at him.

"So," said Eleanor. "You and Algie, eh?"

"Yes, actually, for your information," he said, a little shortly. "And?"

"And, I believe as your friend I get teasing rights," she grinned. "I take it the snowy owl was his?"

He nodded, looking uncomfortable.

"It – it doesn't bother you that he's a boy?" he asked, with a quick glance at Remus; he already knew that Eleanor didn't have a problem with it.

"Why should it bother me?" asked Remus, perplexed. "Quite apart from the fact that I live with Sirius, that is."

"No reason," said Severus, hurriedly. "I just – never mind."

"Go on," said Eleanor, shooing him. "Go and get dressed for the wedding scene…"

They watched him walk away, looking a good deal more buoyant than usual.

"Wouldn't do to keep the Prince waiting!" Eleanor called after him.

0o0o0o0

Meanwhile, onstage: Frank was trying to dress ready for his daughter's wedding; Dorothy entered, with a small bow and announced two visitors, whom she ushered in.

"What would you with me, honest neighbour?" asked Frank, looking up.

"Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you that discerns you nearly," said Dane, in what he evidently thought was a winning manner.

"Brief, I pray you," Frank nodded. "For you see it is a busy time with me."

"Marry, this it is, sir," agreed Dane.

"Yes, in truth it is, sir," Simon echoed.

"What is it, my good friends?" asked Frank, pulling on his boots.

"Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the matter," said Dane, apologetically. "An old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt as, God help, I would desire they were; but, in faith, honest as the skin between his brows."

"Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I," nodded Simon, solemnly. Frank stared at them, perplexed.

"Comparisons are odious," Dane admonished. "Palabras, neighbour Verges."

"Neighbours, you are tedious," said Frank, with little patience.

"It pleases your worship to say so," cried Dane, much flattered. "But we are the poor Duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all on your worship."

Frank's expression clouded, and he put his head to one side.

"All thy tediousness on me, eh?" he asked, boggled.

"Yea, and 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis," said Dane, humbly. "For I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city, and though I be but a poor man, I be glad to hear it."

"And so am I!" cried Simon, happily.

Frank gave them a long look.

"I would fain know what you have to say," he said, slowly.

"Marry, sir, our watch tonight, excepting your worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as errant knaves as any in Messina!" Simon cried, excitedly.

"A good old man, sir," said Dane, treading heavily on Simon's foot; the other boy jumped about in silent agony. "He will be talking," Dane moved in front of his hopping neighbour. "As they say, 'When the age is in, the wit is out.' God help us! All men are not alike, alas, good neighbour!"

"Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you," said Frank, with a frown.

"Gifts that God gives," nodded Dane, with pride.

Frank pulled on his waistcoat with an air of great impatience.

"I must leave you."

"One word, sir," said Dane, hastily. "Our watch, sir, have indeed comprehended two auspicious persons, and we would have them this morning examined before your worship."

"Take their examination yourself and bring it to me," said Frank, rolling his eyes. "I am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you."

"It shall be suffigance," said Dane.

"Drink some wine, ere you go," said Frank, pausing by the door; he left, shaking his head.

"Go, good partner, go get you to Francis Seacole," said Dane, in a state of great excitement. "Bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the jail. We are now to examination these men!"

"And we must do it wisely!" exclaimed Simon, in a similar state of excitement.

"We will spare for no wit, I warrant you," said Dane, more soberly. "Here's that shall drive some of them to a non-come. Only get the learned writer to set down our excommunication, and meet me at the jail!"

They rushed off stage, to somewhat bewildered applause, then each rushed back across in the opposite direction, as if they'd lost their bearings.

The audience roared with laughter as Esther and Olivia changed the scenery; they took longer with this scene change than most, decorating the scene, set in front of a small chapel, with flowers for the wedding.


	32. Act IV

'_The good die young but not always. The wicked prevail but not consistently. I am confused by life, and I feel safe within the confines of the theatre' – Helen Haynes_

0o0o0o0

The lights came up on the chapel, and the audience 'oohed' and 'aahed' at how pretty it was; the majority of the cast (and assembled, costumed crew) were stood at pews, waiting for the bride. Hero's family were gathered to the front of the chapel, the congregated soldiery looking smart across from them; the band played the strains of a very recognisable wedding march as Frank led Lily in, to general cheering onstage.

He presented her to James with a graceful flourish and stepped back, beaming.

"You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady?" asked Peter, with a gentle smile.

"No," said James, to general surprise; Remus glanced at Algernon, but the latter's face betrayed nothing.

"To be married _to_ her," said Frank, with a light chuckle. "Friar, you come to marry her." There was a general air of relaxing.

"Lady, you come hither to be married to the Count?" Peter asked Lily, who dimpled prettily.

"I do."

"If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conjoined," he said. "I charge you on your souls to utter it."

"Know you of any, Hero?" asked James, tersely.

"None, my lord," said Lily, frowning a little at his tone.

"Know you any, Count?" asked Peter.

"I dare make his answer," laughed Frank. "None."

"O, what men do!" exclaimed James, a strange grimace on his face. "What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!"

"How now?" asked Remus, trying to gauge his friend's mood.

"Stand thee by, friar," said James, to general consternation. "Father, by your leave, will you with free and unconstrainèd soul give me this maid, your daughter?"

"As freely, son, as God did give her me," said Frank, perplexed.

"And what have I to give you back whose worth may counterpoise this rich and precious gift?" James asked, tersely.

"Nothing," said Algernon, gritting his teeth. "Unless you render her again."

Many of the cast were staring at James and the Prince with a sense of foreboding now.

Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulness," said James, with a curt nod in his direction. Suddenly, he grabbed Lily by the arm and threw her at her father in disgust; it seemed as if his pent up rage had finally boiled over. "There, Leonato, take her back again!" he cried, in a fury. "Give not this rotten orange to your friend. She's but the sign and semblance of her honour!"

As Lily cried out in startled horror, the townspeople looked on in amazement at a girl they thought they knew (after all, how could the Count be wrong?). Several people in the audience hissed their disapproval, and Eleanor was almost certain that she could hear Estelle tutting as she rushed to her cousin's side.

"Behold how like a maid she blushed here!" shouted James, enraged. "O, what authority and show of truth can cunning sin cover itself withal! Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, to witness simple virtue?" he demanded of the congregation. "Would you not swear, all you that see her, that she were a maid, by these exterior shows? But she is none!" He pointed at Lily, who was still on the floor where she had fallen, and was crying at the ruin of her hopes (and, this being the very early seventeenth century, her entire future). "She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; her blush is guiltiness, not modesty!"

"What do you mean, my lord?" demanded Frank, from his daughter's side.

"Not to be married, not to knit my soul to an approvèd wanton!" James declared, in high dudgeon. Frank was at his side in an instant.

"Dear my lord," he cried in desperation. "If you, in your own proof, have vanquished the resistance of her youth and made defeat of her virginity –"

"I know what you would say: if I have known her, you will say she did embrace me as a husband, and so extenuate the 'forehand sin," said James, hotly. "No, Leonato, I never tempted her with word too large, but, as a brother to his sister, showed bashful sincerity and comely love."

"And seemed I ever otherwise to you?" Lily begged, distraught.

"Out on thee, seeming!" cried James, and made to strike her, but Claire planted herself in his way, looking fearsome. "I will write against it. You seem to me as Dian in her orb, as chaste as is the bud ere it be blown," he spat. "But you are more intemperate in your blood than Venus, or those pamp'red animals that rage in savage sensuality."

"Is my lord well that he doth speak so wide?" Lily demanded, tearfully.

"Sweet Prince," Frank implored. "Why speak not you?"

"What should I speak?" asked Algernon, angrily. "I stand dishonoured that have gone about to link my dear friend to a common stale."

Audience and cast alike gave a gasp of shock and horror.

"Are these things spoken, or do I but dream?" asked Frank aloud, looking staggered.

"Sir, they are spoken, and they are true," said Algernon, in all seriousness.

"This looks not like a nuptial," said Remus, staring about him.

"'True,' O God!" Lily cried in despair.

"Leonato, stand I here?" demanded James. "Is this the Prince? Is this the Prince's brother? Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own?"

"All this is so," said Frank, staring at him. "But what of this, my lord?"

"Let me but move one question to your daughter," said he. "And by that fatherly and kindly power that you have in her, bid her answer truly."

"I charge thee do so, as thou art my child."

"O God defend me!" cried Lily, seeing her father's solemn face. "How I am beset! What kind of catechizing call you this?"

"To make you answer truly to your name," James growled.

"Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name with any just reproach?" she demanded of him.

"Marry, that can Hero!" James cried, viciously. "Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight, out at your window betwixt twelve and one?" he demanded. "Now, if you are a maid, answer to this."

"I talked with no man at that hour, my lord!" Lily cried.

"Why then you are no maiden," Algernon growled. "Leonato, I am sorry you must hear. Upon mine honour myself, my brother and this grievèd Count did see her, hear her, at that hour last night talk with a ruffian at her chamber window who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, confessed the vile encounters they have had a thousand times in secret."

The guests recoiled in horror, as did most of the men; Alice stared at Algernon in dawning horror.

"Fie, fie! They are not to be named, my lord – not to be spoken of," Sirius spat. "There is not chastity enough in language without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment."

"O Hero!" bewailed James, dramatically. "What a Hero hadst thou been if half thy outward graces had been placed about thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! But fare thee well, most foul, most fair, farewell; thou pure impiety and impious purity, for thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, and on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, to turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, and never shall it more be gracious."

"Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?" asked Frank, weakly.

Lily, who had been sobbing, went limp and collapsed onto Eleanor and Claire in a truly distressing manner.

"Why, how now, cousin?" asked Eleanor tensely, shaking her a little. "Wherefore sink you down?"

"Come, let us go," snarled Sirius. "These things, come thus to light, smother her spirit up."

The Princes and their men stalked offstage, followed by the crowd of shocked and chattering townspeople. While Claire and Eleanor tried vainly to rouse Lily from her faint, Alice hurried through the crowd, looking frightened.

"How doth the lady?" asked Remus, kneeling at her side.

"Dead, I think!" cried Eleanor, alarmed – she reached out to anyone within reach, desperate. "Help, uncle! Hero! Why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar!"

"O Fate, take not away thy heavy hand!" Frank exclaimed, staring wildly. "Death is the fairest cover for her shame that may be wished for!"

Lily awoke, entirely bewildered at finding herself sprawled between Claire and Eleanor; she peered up at the circle of concerned faces, then on to her father, who was looking on her in sheer disgust.

"How now, cousin Hero?" asked Eleanor, stroking her cousin's hair.

"Have comfort, lady," said Peter, patting her hand gently.

"Dost thou look up?" growled Frank.

"Yea," said Peter, looking up at him in surprise. "Wherefore should she not?"

"Wherefore?" Frank demanded. "Why, doth not every earthly thing cry shame upon her? Could she here deny the story that is printed in her blood?" He grabbed his daughter by her hair and dragged her across the stage, to cries of consternation from the women; Peter and Severus caught hold of his shoulders and hauled him backwards as the audience gasped in shock. Remus grabbed Eleanor's shoulder to prevent her from flying at her uncle, as was plainly her intention; she settled for helping Claire to sooth Lily, who was wailing in despair.

"Do not live, Hero!" Frank bellowed, from between his captors. "Do not ope thine eyes! For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, myself would strike at thy life!" He renewed his struggles against Peter and Severus and tried again to grab her; all three women shrieked at him (though in Lily's case it was mostly just louder crying).

"Grieved I, I had but one?" Frank shouted. "Chid I for that at nature's frugal frame? O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes?" He took another futile swipe at his sobbing daughter. "Why had I not, with charitable hand took up a beggar's issue at my gates, who smirchèd thus and mired with infamy, I might have said, 'No part of it is mine'? But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised, and mine that I was proud on, mine so much that I myself was to myself not mine, valuing of her – why she, O she is fall'n into a pit of ink, that the wide sea hath drops too few to wash her clean again, and salt too little which may season give to her foul tainted flesh!" he shouted, in despair.

"Sir, sir, be patient!" Remus commanded, holding a placating arm out to him. "For my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say."

"O, on my soul, my cousin is belied!" Eleanor cried.

"Lady, were you her bedfellow last night?" asked Remus.

"No, truly, not," said Eleanor, shaking her head. "Although, until last night, I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow."

"Confirmed, confirmed!" screamed Frank, making Lily sob even harder. "O, that is stronger made which was before barred up with ribs of iron! Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, who loved her so that, speaking of her foulness, washed it with tears? Hence from her! Let her die!" he struck out, catching his daughter's cheek; Eleanor and Claire pulled her further back as Remus rushed to help Severus pull him away from her. Peter put himself firmly between Frank and Lily. The audience were looking on in rapt and silent attention.

"Hear me a little," he said, firmly. "For I have only been silent so long, and given way unto this course of fortune, by noting of the lady. I have marked a thousand blushing apparitions to start in her face, a thousand innocent shames in angel whiteness beat away those blushes, and in her eye there hath appeared a fire to burn the errors that these princes hold against her maiden truth." Frank was listening to him now, more calmly – though Remus and Severus hadn't let him go, just in case. Lily's sobs were quieter now someone in authority believed in her innocence; she was clinging to Claire and Eleanor like lifelines in a turbulent ocean.

"Call me a fool," continued Peter, more gently. "Trust not my reading nor my observations, which with experimental seal doth warrant the tenor of my book; trust not my age, my reverence, calling, nor divinity, if this sweet lady lie not guiltless here under some biting error."

"Friar, it cannot be," Frank wept. "Thou seest that all the grace she hath left is that she will not add to her damnation a sin of perjury; she not denies it. Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse that which appears in proper nakedness?"

"Lady," said Peter, gently, ignoring Frank's protests. "What man is he you are accused of?"

"They know that do accuse me; I know none!" she protested. "If I know more of any man alive than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, prove you that any man with me conversed at hours unmet, or that I yesternight maintained the change of words with any creature, refuse me, hate me, torture me to death!"

"There is some strange misprision in the princes," said Peter, shaking his head.

"Two of them have the very bent of honour," said Remus. "And if their wisdoms be misled in this, the practice of it lives in John the bastard, whose spirits toil in frame of villainies."

"I know not," said Frank, weakly. "If they speak but truth of her, these hands shall tear her. If they wrong her honour, the proudest of them shall well hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, nor age so eat up my invention, nor fortune made such havoc of my means, nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, but they shall find awaked in such a kind both strength of limb and policy of mind, ability in means and choice of friends, to quit me of them thoroughly."

"Pause awhile and let my counsel sway you in this case," said Peter, soothingly. "Your daughter here the princes left for dead. Let her awhile be secretly kept in, and publish it that she is dead indeed; maintain a mourning ostentation, and on your family's old monument hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites that appertain unto a burial."

"What will become of this?" Frank demanded. "What will this do?"

"Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf change slander to remorse," said Peter. "That is some good. But not for that dream I on this strange course, but on this travail look for greater birth." He patted Lily's hand, soothingly. "She dying, as it must be so maintained, upon the instant that she were accused, shall be lamented, pitied, and excused of every hearer. For it so falls out that what we have we prize not to the worth whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, why, then we rack the value, then we find the virtue that possession would not show us whiles it was ours." He looked at the people ranged about him sternly, aware that he had their (and the audience's) full attention. "So will it fare with Claudio. When he shall hear she died upon his words, th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his study of imagination, and every lovely organ of her life shall come apparelled in more precious habit, more moving, delicate, and full of life, into the eye and prospect of his soul than when she lived indeed. Then shall he mourn, if ever love had interest in his liver, and wish he had not so accusèd her, no, though he thought his accusation true."

"Let this be so," Peter continued. "And doubt not but success will fashion the event in better shape than I can lay it down in likelihood. But if all aim, but this, be levelled false, the supposition of the lady's death will quench the wonder of her infamy; and if it sort not well, you may conceal her, as best befits her wounded reputation, in some reclusive and religious life, out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries."

"Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you," said Remus, soothingly. "And though you know my inwardness and love is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this as secretly and justly as your soul should with your body."

"Being that I flow in grief, the smallest twine may lead me," said Frank weakly.

"'Tis well consented," said Peter, relieved. "Presently away; for to strange sores strangely they strain the cure." He laid a hand on Lily's arm as Claire lifted her to her feet: "Come, lady, die to live. This wedding day perhaps is but prolonged. Have patience and endure."

He helped Claire support her as she stumbled off stage, followed by her father and Severus, leading his brother gently away.

Eleanor sank onto one of the pews and covered her face, crying now that her cousin was – for the moment – out of danger. Remus knelt beside her, wanting to comfort her but uncertain as to how she would take it.

"Lady Beatrice," he asked, gently. "Have you wept all this while?"

"Yea," said Eleanor, from between her fingers. "And I will weep a while longer."

"I will not desire that…"

"You have no reason," said she. "I do it freely."

Remus reached out a hand to her arm, but thought better of it and withdrew.

"Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged," he assured her.

"Ah," she said, emerging tearfully from behind her hands. "How much might the man deserve of me that would right her!"

"Is their any way to show such friendship?" he asked, this time gently grasping her hand; she did not resist.

"A very even way," she said, haltingly. "But no such friend."

"May a man do it?"

"It is a man's office, but not yours," she said quietly, frowning at his hand as if she had only just noticed it. She looked up at his face.

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you," he said, earnestly. "Is not that strange?"

"As strange as the thing I know not," she said, startled and unable to look away from him. "It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you – but believe me not – and yet I lie not." She shook her head and tore her eyes away, deeply uncomfortable. "I confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin."

"By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me!" cried Remus, in delight, taking both of her hands in his own.

"Do not swear and eat it," she pleaded.

"I will swear by it that you love me, and I will make him eat it that says I love not you!"

"Will you not eat your word?"

"With no sauce that can be devised to it," he assured her. "I protest I love thee!"

"Well then, God forgive me!" she said, smiling tearfully.

"What offence, sweet Beatrice?" Remus asked, matching her smile.

"You have stayed me in a happy hour!" she cried. "I was about to protest I loved you!"

"And do it with all thy heart!" he laughed.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" she cried, and he kissed her fiercely (to several 'whoops' from the audience).

"Come," he said, sitting beside her. "Bid me do anything for thee."

Eleanor looked him dead in the eye, and, with quiet forcefulness, made her request.

"Kill Claudio."

The audience gave a gasp; Remus's face fell and he drew back from her slightly.

"Ha… not for the wide world," he said.

"You kill me to deny it," said Eleanor, rising. "Farewell."

"Tarry, sweet Beatrice," he said, catching her about the waist to prevent her departure.

"I am gone, thou I am here," she said, struggling. "There is no love in you – nay, I pray you let me go!"

"Beatrice –"

"In faith, I will go!" she cried, hotly.

"We'll be friends first!" he said, letting her go; she turned to him angrily.

"You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy!" she spat.

"Is Claudio thine enemy?" Remus asked, desperately.

"Is 'a not approved in the height a villain, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman?" she demanded, screaming at him. "O that I were a man!" she cried, staring at him. "What, bear her in hand until they come to take hands; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour –" she fell to her knees before the chapel and stared up at the heavens in great distress. "O God, that I were a man!" she shouted. "I would eat his heart in the marketplace!"

"Hear me, Beatrice –" Remus began, but Eleanor was too upset to listen.

"Talk with a man out at a window!" she exclaimed, angrily. "A proper saying!"

"Nay, but Beatrice –"

"Sweet Hero, she is wronged, she is sland'red, she is undone!"

"Beat-"

"Princes and counties!" she cried, jumping to her feet in agitation. "Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, surely!" she shouted, her hands pulling at her hair in anguish; she was pacing back and forth in front of the chapel now, Remus trying – and failing – to interrupt her path. "O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake!" she shot a glare at her would-be suitor. "But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too. He is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie, and swears it," she cried, gesturing in the direction that Claudio and the princes departed in. "I cannot be a man by wishing; therefore I will die a woman with grieving."

She sank onto the pew, and Remus took the opportunity to spring to her side.

"Tarry, good Beatrice," he said, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "By this hand, I love thee."

She glared at him, but didn't shrug him off as it had seemed she might; she no longer had the energy.

"Use it for my love some other way that swearing by it," she begged him.

Remus frowned and addressed her soberly:

"Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?" he asked.

"Yea," said Eleanor, darkly. "As surely as I have a thought or a soul."

Remus nodded once, as if making up his mind.

"Enough," he said. "I am engaged. I will challenge him." Eleanor leaned against him for a moment in relief; he pressed his lips to her knuckles. "I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you hear of me, so think of me." He helped her to her feet. "Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so farewell."

Eleanor grasped his hand to her for a moment before walking weakly offstage.

Remus watched her go, his expression worried and dark.

0o0o0o0

When the lights came up once more, Nathan and Thomas were chained to a wall, looking bruised, muddy and altogether sorry for themselves. The members of the watch were leaning against the walls in a nonchalant and highly smug manner; periodically one of them would give them an investigative prod with their pike.

Damocles Belby, a rotund Ravenclaw with a booming voice, was herded onstage by Simon, who looked as if he were about to explode with excitement. Wilbur and Helbert took a break from poking the plaintiffs to set up a desk and chair, which Belby took, looking highly dubious.

"Is our whole dissembly appeared?" asked Dane, striding onstage purposefully.

Belby, Thomas and Nathan eyed him with obvious contempt.

"Which be the malefactors?" asked Belby, in a bored voice.

"Marry, that am I and my partner," Dane announced, proudly.

The Watch members and prisoners exchanged a look that said, quite clearly 'what a prick'.

"Nay, that's certain," said Simon, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "We have the exhibition to examine."

"But which are the offenders that are to be examined?" asked Belby, with a withering look. "Let them come before Master Constable."

"Yea, marry, let them come before me," said Dane. "What is your name friend?" he asked Nathan, prodding him in the stomach.

"Borachio," said Nathan, wearily.

"Pray write down Borachio," said Dane; he turned to Thomas. "And you, sirrah?" he asked, insulting him effortlessly.

"I am a gentleman, sir," said Thomas, through gritted teeth. "And my name is Conrade."

"Write down Master Gentleman Conrade," said Dane. "Masters, do you serve God?"

"Yea, sir, we hope," Nathan and Thomas chorused.

"Write down that they hope they serve God," said Dane. "And write God first, for God defend but God should go before villains! Masters it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves, and I will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves?"

"Marry, sir, we say we are none," said Thomas.

"A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you," Dane laughed, accommodatingly. "But I will go about with him. Sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaves."

"Sir, _I_ say to you we are none," insisted Nathan.

"'Fore God, they are both in a tale," he leaned over Belby's book. "Have you writ down they are none?"

"Master Constable," barked Belby in annoyance. "You go not the way to examine. You must call forth the watch that are their accusers."

"Yea, marry, that's the eftest way," agreed Dane, beckoning the watch forward. "Let the watch come forth. Masters, I charge you in the Prince's name, accuse these men!"

"This man said, sir, that Don John the Prince's brother was a villain," said Wilbur, giving Nathan a prod with his bill.

"Write down Prince John a villain," said Dane, horrified. "Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain."

"Master Constable!" groaned Nathan, despite himself.

"Pray thee, fellow, peace," Dane admonished him, waggling a finger in his face. "I do not like thy look, I promise thee."

"What heard you him say else?" asked Belby, pointedly ignoring Dane.

"Marry," said Crispin. "That he had received a thousand ducats of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully."

"Flat burglary as ever was committed!" exclaimed Dane.

"Yea, by mass, that it is!" Simon agreed, as he always did.

"What else?" Belby demanded.

"And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her!" cried Helbert.

"O villain!" Dane exclaimed. "Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this!"

The audience sniggered, but Belby's remarkable voice silenced them.

"And this is more, masters, than you can deny," he said. "Prince John is this morning secretly stol'n away. Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died!"

Thomas and Nathan exchanged a worried look; Simon stared at them agog.

"Master Constable, let these men be bound and brought to Leonato's," said Belby, rising and collecting his book. "I will go before and show him their examination."

He hurried off, ledger tucked beneath his arm.

"Come," said Dane, to the watch. "Let them be opinioned!"

"Let them be!" cried Simon. "In the hands!"

Several people snorted.

"God's my life, come, bind them," Dane urged. "Thou naughty varlet!"

"Away!" shouted Thomas, as they made to move him. "You are an ass!" Apparently, he had had enough of their stupidity, particularly given the ignominy of being caught by such fools. "You are an ass!" he shouted, going quite red in the face.

"Dost thou not suspect my place?" Dane demanded, angrily. "Dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass!" He stuck an irate finger under Helbert's nose; he backed into the wall. "But, masters, remember that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass." He turned back to Thomas: "No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. _I_ am a wise fellow; and which is more, a householder; and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to!" He was pacing now, quite enraged; the audience was rolling about, beside themselves with laughter. "And a rich fellow enough, go to! And a fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns and everything handsome about him. O that I had been writ down an ass!"


	33. Act V, Part One

'_Cut quarrels out of literature, and you will have very little history or drama or fiction or epic poetry left' – Robert Lynd_

0o0o0o0

Severus followed Antonio onstage, trailing after his brother like some kind of overgrown mother hen; they were in the street where the watch had captured their 'false knaves'.

"If you go on thus, you will kill yourself," he said, urgently. "And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief against yourself."

Frank tried to wave him off.

"I pray thee cease thy counsel, which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve," said Frank. "Give me not counsel, nor let no comforter delight mine ear but such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. Bring me a father that so loved his child, whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, and bid him speak of patience."

He changed direction erratically, and Severus flapped on the spot for a moment, carried onward by his own momentum, before chasing after him.

"Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, and let it answer every strain for strain, as thus for thus, and such a grief for such, in every lineament, branch, shape, and form," Frank whirled to face his brother, who very nearly ran into him. "If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, and sorrow wag, cry 'hem' when he should groan; patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk with candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, and I of him will gather patience."

He changed direction again; this time Severus stayed where he was, and simply let Frank run himself out.

"But there is no such man," Frank cried. "For, brother, men can counsel and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, their counsel turns to passion, which before would give preceptial medicine to rage, fetter strong madness in a silken thread, charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no!" he cried. "'Tis all men's office to speak patience to those that wring under the load of sorrow, but no man's virtue nor sufficiency to be so moral when he shall endure the like himself. Therefore give me no counsel; my griefs cry louder than advertisement."

"Therein do men from children nothing differ," remarked Severus.

"I pray thee peace," Frank cried. "I will be flesh and blood; for there was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently, however they have writ the style of gods and made a push at chance and sufferance."

"Yet bend not all the harm on yourself," Severus reasoned. "Make those that do offend you suffer too."

"There thou speak'st reason," said Frank, coming to a halt. "Nay, I will do so. My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; and that shall Claudio know; so shall the Prince, and all of them that thus dishonour her."

"Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily," Severus declared; James and Algernon strode onstage and straight past Frank and Severus.

"Good den, good den," said Algernon.

"Good day to both of you," nodded James, as he passed.

"Hear you, my lords –" cried Frank, following them.

"We have some haste, Leonato," said Algernon, gently.

"Some haste, my lord!" Frank exclaimed, as he and Severus planted themselves firmly in their adversaries' path. "Well, fare you well, my lord. Are you so hasty now? Well, all is one."

"Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man," said Algernon, firmly.

"If he could right himself with quarrelling," Severus growled. "Some of us would lie low."

"Who wrongs him?" asked James, genuinely perplexed.

"Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler thou!" Frank growled with such ferocity that James actually stepped backwards, his hand unconsciously grazing the hilt of his sword. "Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; I fear thee not."

"Marry, beshrew my hand if it should give your age such cause of fear," said James, startled. "In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword."

"Tush, tush, man!" Frank snarled. "Never fleer and jest at me. I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, as under privilege of age to brag what I have done being young, or what would do, were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, thou hast so wronged mine innocent child and me that I am forced to lay my reverence by and, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, do challenge thee to trial of a man." He gave James a vicious prod in the chest. "I say thou hast belied mine innocent child. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, and she lies buried with her ancestors; O, in a tomb where scandal never slept, save this of hers, framed by thy villainy!"

"My villainy?" asked James, taken aback.

"Thine, Claudio," Frank insisted. "Thine, I say!"

"You say not right old man," said Algernon, calmly enough; there was a note of warning to his voice now.

"My lord, my lord, I'll prove it on his body if he dare," Frank cried. "Despite his nice fence and his active practice, his May of youth and bloom of lustihood."

"Away!" cried James, alarmed. "I will not have to do with you."

"Canst thou so daff me?" Frank demanded, inches from James's face. "Thou hast killed my child. If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man."

"He shall kill two of us," Severus growled, dangerously. "And men indeed. But that's no matter; let him kill one first. Win me and wear me! Let him answer me!" He gave James a purposeful shove. "Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy; come, follow me. Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence! Nay, as I am a gentleman I will!"

"Brother –" Frank began, perhaps realizing that he might have put his kinsman in danger.

"Content yourself," said Severus, gently pushing his brother back. "God knows I loved my niece," he cried, with a roar like a bear; both Algernon and James took involuntary steps backwards. "And she is dead, slandered to death by villains, that dare as well answer a man indeed as I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops!"

"Brother Anthony –" Frank began, but Severus waved him off.

"Hold you content," said he. "What man! I know them, yea, and what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple!" He loomed over James, which took some doing. "Scambling, outfacing, fashionmonging boys, that lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, go anticly, and show outward hideousness," he snarled. "And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words, how they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; and this is all!"

"But, brother Anthony –"

"Come, 'tis no matter," Severus continued. "Do not you meddle; let me deal in this."

"Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience," said Algernon, in a tone like steel. "My heart is sorry for your daughter's death. But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing but what was true, and very full of proof."

"My lord, my lord!" Frank protested.

"I will not hear you," said Algernon, in the same quiet, steely tone.

"No?" asked Frank, with a wild-eyed look. "Come, brother, away! I will be heard!"

"And shall," Severus spat. "Or some of us will smart for it."

They stormed offstage, very nearly ploughing into Remus, who had to jump out of their way; he approached his friends, looking grim.

"See, see!" said Algernon, with a smile. "Here comes the man we went to seek."

"Now, signior, what news?" asked James, recovering himself.

"Welcome, signior," said Algernon. "You are almost come to part almost a fray."

"We had liked to have had our two noses snapped off with two old men without teeth," added James, with a grin.

"Leonato and his brother," said Algernon, with a faint frown. "What think'st thou?" he asked. "Had we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them."

"In a false quarrel there is no honour," said Remus stiffly. "I came to seek you both."

"We have been up and down to seek thee," said James, laughing. "For we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?"

"It is in my scabbard," Remus responded, an unpleasant expression clouding his features. "Shall I draw it?"

"Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?" Algernon asked, leaning against the wall of a house.

"Never did any so, though very many have been beside their wit," laughed James. "I will bid thee draw, as we do the minstrels: draw to pleasure us."

Remus glared at him, suddenly angry beyond belief at his friend's flippant mood, so soon after ruining (and apparently killing) a young woman. He had thought him better than this.

"As I am an honest man," Algernon exclaimed, straightening up. "He looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?"

"What, courage, man!" grinned James. "What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care."

"Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career and you charge it against me," said Remus, fighting to keep the growl out of his voice. "I pray you, choose another subject."

"Nay then, give him another staff," James joked. "This last was broke cross."

As oblivious as James was, Algernon was watching Remus closely.

"By this light, he changes more and more," he murmured. "I think he be angry indeed."

James paused to take him in; he frowned.

"If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle," he said, warily.

"Shall I speak a word in your ear?" Remus asked, with a snarl.

"God bless me from a challenge!" James exclaimed; Remus took him by the throat and slammed him into the wall. It was suddenly painfully obvious which of them was the stronger and more experienced of the two; the audience took in a breath, involuntarily.

"You are a villain," Remus growled. "I jest not; I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare." He paused, only an inch from James's nose. "Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you."

He let him go, and James slumped against the wall; Remus surveyed him with open disgust.

"Fare you well, boy," he said, curtly. "You know my mind. I will leave you now to your gossiplike humour; you break jests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not." He turned to Algernon, who was watching the exchange with an unreadable expression on his face.

"My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you," said Remus, civilly. "I must discontinue your company. Your brother the bastard is fled from Messina. You have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady." He paused, and sent another contemptuous look James's way. "For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him," he said, and with that he strode off.

"He is in earnest," remarked Algernon, as James brushed himself down, flushed and startled.

"In most profound earnest," said James, rubbing his throat. "And, I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice."

"And hath challenged thee?"

"Most sincerely."

The two men exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

"What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!" Algernon exclaimed.

"He is then a giant to an ape," said James, with some venom. "But then is an ape a doctor to such a man."

"Pluck up, my heart, and be sad," Algernon remarked. "Did he not say my brother was fled?"

"Come you, sir," cried Dane, from the wings. "If justice cannot tame you, she shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance." He came into sight, the watch and Verges helping to chide, prod and poke Nathan and Thomas along; they were chained together. "Nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to."

"How now?" Algernon asked, starting. "Two of my brother's men bound? Borachio one…"

Thomas appeared to be making occasional attempts at escape, but Nathan stumbled on like a dead man.

"Hearken after their offence, my lord," James suggested, with a frown.

"Officers, what offence have these men done?" called Algernon, coming forth.

"Marry sir," said Dane, standing to attention so abruptly that it looked like he were mounted on a spring. He listed his own personal summary of their crimes, vibrating with perceived authority. "They have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady." The members of the watch were determinedly trying to look like they'd never met this odd little man before in their lives. "Thirdly they have verified unjust things; and to conclude, they are lying knaves," he finished, sweating with the effort. Thomas gave Helbert a look that said 'You work for him, you know,' at which Helbert _accidentally_ trod on his foot; the audience sniggered.

Algernon stared at him for a moment, until his brain had a chance to take an appropriately matched erratic course.

"First, I ask thee what they have done," he said. "Thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly," the audience's laughter increased in volume as they cottoned on, "why they are committed; and to conclude, what you lay to their charge."

"Rightly reasoned, and in his own division," James remarked to the giggling audience. "And, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited."

"Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer?" Algernon asked, giving up on Dane and instead addressing himself to Nathan and Thomas. "This learned constable is too cunning to be understood. What's your offence?"

"Sweet Prince, let me go no farther to mine answer," said Nathan, remorsefully. "Do you hear me, and let this count kill me." Algernon and James exchanged a look of shock; Algernon motioned for Nathan to continue. "I have deceived even your very eyes. What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light." The watchmen rattled Nathan's chains threateningly; plainly, shallow fools they were not. "Who in the night overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the lady Hero," he paused, and James's face began to fall. "How you were brought into the orchard and saw me court Margaret."

James blanched and gave a gasp of shock, bringing his hand to his mouth in extreme discomfort.

"How you disgraced her when you should marry her," Nathan continued, wretchedly. "My villainy they have upon record, which I had rather seal with my death than repeat over to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my master's false accusation," he said, looking dolefully up at Algernon in genuine remorse. "And briefly, I desire nothing but the reward of a villain."

There was silence for a moment, as the audience and cast waited for Algernon's decision.

"Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?" he asked James, who was pale and shaking by his side.

"I have drunk poison whiles he uttered it," said James, weakly.

"But did my brother set thee on to this?" Algernon asked Nathan, sternly.

"Yea," Nathan nodded, miserably. "And paid me richly for the practice of it."

"He is composed and framed of treachery," said Algernon, angrily. "And fled he is upon this villainy."

"Sweet Hero," wailed James. "Now thy image doth appear in the rare semblance that I loved it first."

"Come, bring away the plaintiffs," said Dane. "By this time our sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter. And, masters," he said, approaching the distraught prince and count. "Do not forget to specify, when time and place shall serve, that I am an ass."

Algernon looked at him in a manner that suggested that he wouldn't for one moment try to dissuade anyone from that particular proclamation; fortunately for Dane, Simon interrupted.

"Here, here comes Master Signior Leonato, and the sexton too," he said, pointing offstage.

Frank and Severus followed Damocles onstage, the brothers much calmer now they had the truth of things.

"Which is the villain?" demanded Frank, quietly; it was exactly the way Dumbledore had sounded, months before: not angry, but severely disappointed. Which was much, much worse. "Let me see his eyes, that, when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Which of these is him?"

"If you would know your wronger," said Nathan, wretchedly. "Look on me."

"Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast killed mine innocent child?"

"Yea, even I alone," said Nathan, looking at Frank's feet.

"No, not so, villain!" cried Frank. "Thou beliest thyself. Here stand a pair of honourable men," he continued, gesturing towards the sombre-faced prince and his quaking count. "A third is fled, that had a hand in it. I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death," he said, voice flat with sarcasm. "Record it with your high and worthy deeds. 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it."

"I know not how to pray your patience," said James, in a trembling voice. "Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; impose me to what penance your invention can lay upon my sin," he sank to his knees. "Yet I sinned not but in mistaking."

"By my soul, nor I," said Algernon, earnestly, joining James on the floor. "And yet, to satisfy this good old man, I would bend under any heavy weight that he'll enjoin me to."

Frank's expression softened at their evident remorse and contrition.

"I cannot bid you bid my daughter live," he said, gently. "That were impossible; but I pray you both, possess the people in Messina here how innocent she died; and if your love can labour aught in sad invention, hang her epitaph upon her tomb, and sing it to her bones, sing it tonight." He paused, and glanced at Severus, who nodded for him to continue.

"Tomorrow morning come you to my house," Frank went on. "And since you could not be my son-in-law, be yet my nephew. My brother hath a daughter, almost the copy of my child that's dead, and she alone is heir to both of us. Give her the right you should have giv'n her cousin, and so dies my revenge."

"O noble sir!" James cried, when he could find his voice. "Your overkindness doth wring tears from me. I do embrace your offer; and dispose for henceforth of poor Claudio."

Algernon helped his companion to his feet and the two backed away slightly in respect.

"Tomorrow then I will expect your coming," said Frank. "Tonight I take my leave. This naughty man shall face to face be brought with Margaret, who I believe was packed in all this wrong. Hired to it by your brother."

"No," cried Nathan. "By my soul, she was not; nor knew what she did when she spoke to me, but always hath been just and virtuous in anything that I do know by her."

Frank gave him an appraising look as Dane approached him, bending almost double in simpering humility.

"Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black," he said, affecting what he clearly thought was a winning attitude. "This plaintiff here, the offender," he continued, pointing at Thomas, who rolled his eyes. "Did call me ass. I beseech you let it be rememb'red in his punishment." He made to turn away, but remembered something that he felt might be important. "And also the watch heard them talk of one Deformed; they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath used so long and never paid that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon that point."

"I thank thee for thy care and honest pains," said Frank, carefully treading the conversational minefield that the constable represented.

"Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverent youth, and I praise God for you."

"There's for your pains," said Frank, giving him a Galleon in an effort to be rid of him.

"God save the foundation," cried Dane, wholly inaccurately.

"Go," urged Frank. "I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee."

Dane paused for a moment, uncertainly.

"I leave an errant knave with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others," he said. "God keep your worship! I wish your worship well. God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come neighbour!" he cried, grabbing Simon's arm, and dragging him backwards offstage. After about a minute they returned and went in the other direction.

Everyone onstage watched them with the curious feeling that they had witnessed the mental process of a complete mad person.

Frank shook his head, as if trying to dislodge him.

"Until tomorrow morning, lords, farewell," he said.

"Farewell my lords," said Severus. "We look for you tomorrow."

"We will not fail," said Algernon, quietly.

"Tonight I'll mourn with Hero," said James, miserably, and he followed Algernon offstage.

Frank looked over at the members of the watch, who shuffled to attention.

"Bring you these fellows on," he said. "We'll talk with Margaret, how her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow."

0o0o0o0

The lights came back up on the honeysuckle bowers in Leonato's garden; Remus was sat on one of the benches, poring over a piece of parchment. Alice walked past, frowning; Remus sprang to his feet.

"Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret," he cried, smoothly taking her arm and using her momentum to sweep her back to the benches. "Deserve well at my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice."

Momentarily bewildered, she laughed.

"Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?" she asked, coquettishly.

"In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it," he grinned, and conceded, "for in most comely truth thou deservest it."

"To have no man come over me!" Alice exclaimed, and Remus gave a dirty laugh. "Why, shall I always keep belowstairs?"

"Thy wit is as quick as a greyhounds mouth," he laughed. "It catches."

"And yours is as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit but hurt not," she smiled, wryly.

Remus scoffed.

"A most manly wit, Margaret," he said, firmly. "It will not hurt woman. And so, I pray thee call Beatrice. I give thee the bucklers."

It was Margaret's turn to scoff.

"Give us the swords," she said. "We have bucklers of our own."

"If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice," he told her. "And they are dangerous weapons for maids."

"Well," she grinned. "I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs."

She left, and he went back to his parchment.

"And therefore will come…" he read it through several times, frowning, then tried it out loud:

"_The god of love,_

_That sits above_

_And knows me, and knows me,_

_How pitiful I deserve…_"

There were gales of laughter at his attempt at singing; he sighed, and stared out into the audience.

"I mean in singing," he said, sighing. "But in loving, Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse – why, they were never so turned over and over as my poor self in love." Quite a few people laughed. "Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme… I _have _tried," he said, defensively. "I can find out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby'…" The audience snorted. "An innocent rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for 'school,' fool,' a babbling rhyme…" He waited for the giggles to die down. "Very ominous endings," he said, and stood, tucking the parchment into his uniform. "No, I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festival terms."

His face lit up as Eleanor came onstage.

"Sweet Beatrice," said Remus, smiling widely. "Wouldst thou come when I called thee?"

"Yea, signior," she said, returning his smile. "And depart when you bid me."

"O, stay but till then!" he cried.

"'Then' is spoke," she said, turning to go. "Fare you well now…"

Remus laughed, along with the audience, and she turned back again with a light smile.

"And yet, ere I go…" she stepped closer to him. "Let me go with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio."

"Only foul words," he said, closing the gap between them. "And thereupon I will kiss thee…" He leant in to do just that, but Eleanor put her fingers to his lips.

"Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome," she smiled, and he chuckled. "Therefore I will depart unkissed."

"Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit," he laughed, then became more serious. "But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge," he took her hands as she relaxed very slightly into a different kind of tension; they both knew that in a duel, Remus was the better man. "And either I must shortly hear from him or I will subscribe him a coward…"

He led her to a bench and sat her down beside him.

"And I pray thee now tell me," he asked. "For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?"

Eleanor laughed, and said:

"For all of them together." Remus scoffed and the audience laughed. "Which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them," she continued, over his un-manly giggles. "But for which of my good parts –"

"Ha!"

"- did you first suffer love for me?" A wave of mirth rolled over the audience.

"Suffer love!" he scoffed. "A good epithet. I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will!"

Eleanor laughed along with the audience.

"In spite of your heart, I think," she said. "Alas, poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours, for I will never love that which my friend hates."

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably," Remus chuckled. "And now tell me, how doth your cousin?"

"Very ill," said Eleanor.

"And how do you?" he asked, gently.

"Very ill too."

He put an arm around her.

"Serve God, love me, and mend," he said, and leaned in to kiss her; before he could, however, he caught sight of movement in the wings. "There will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste."

Claire rushed onstage, grinning and clearly trying not to laugh at the way Remus had removed his arm from around her waist.

"Madam, you must come to your uncle," she said, breathlessly. "Yonder's old coil at home. It is proved my Lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the Prince and Claudio mightily abused, and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. Will you come presently?" she asked, and dashed off, presumably to fetch someone else.

Eleanor and Remus beamed at one another.

"Will you go hear this news, signior?" she asked; he seized her again, about the waist.

"I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes!" he cried, and she laughed. "And moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's."


	34. Act V, Part Two

'_The best audience is intelligent, well-education, and a little drunk' Alvin Barkley_

0o0o0o0

This set was dark, with torches flickering like stars among the ivy of the walls; James, Algernon and Peter were gathered in front of a small tomb, the plaster of its walls bleached white by the sun, like old bones. Peter beckoned Ferdy, the musicians and two cloaked figures (presumably monks, but actually Claire and Amber Ortega, representing the choir) onstage; they all carried tapers.

"Is this the monument of Leonato?" James asked, the very picture of misery.

"It is, my lord," said Peter, solemnly.

James held up a scroll and read from it.

"Done to death by slanderous tongues, was the Hero that here lies," he paused, trying not to cry. "Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, Gives her fame which never dies. So-so-" he stuttered, voice breaking. "So the life that died with shame… li-lives in death with glorious fame."

He stepped forward and hung the scroll on the gates of the monument with shaking hands.

"Hang thou there upon the tomb, praising her when I am dumb," he scrubbed his hands across his face. "Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn."

James sank to his knees as the musicians began to play; Algernon put a comforting hand on his shoulder as Ferdy began to sing:

"_Pardon, goddess of the night,_

_Those that slew thy virgin knight;_

_For the which, with songs of woe, _

_Round about her tomb they go._"

"_Midnight, Assist our moan; _

_Help us to sigh and groan,_

_Heavily, heavily._"

"_Graves, yawn and yield your dead,_

_Till death be utterèd,_

_Heavily, heavily._"

There was a brief pause as the musicians subtly changed the melody before fading away; Professor Flitwick had decided that this section of the play would benefit from a prolonged musical interlude, and had therefore added an English Madgrigal.

Peter, Ferdy, Claire and Amber began to sing, delighting the ear with harmony and discord, letting their four separate melodies bend and twist about one another.

"_Draw on, sweet night,_

_Draw on, sweet night._

_Best friend unto those cares,_

_Best friend unto those cares._

_That do arise from painful melancholy,_

_Arise from painful melancholy._"

Eleanor, listening from the wings, wondered how a song of such exquisite beauty had come to be written about misery.

"_My life's so ill through want of comfort fair,_

_My life's so ill through want of comfort fair,_

_That onto thee, to thee, I concentrate it wholly._

_That onto thee, I concentrate it wholly._"

The audience were sitting in stunned silence, absorbing the beautiful music; surprised, no doubt, that four teenagers could produce such a moving sound.

"_Sweet night, draw on,_

_Sweet night, draw on, _

_Oh, sweet night, draw on._

_Sweet night, draw on._

_Sweet night, draw on._"

The majority of the cast were gathered in the wings, listening with their eyes tightly closed, letting their souls soar.

"_My griefs when they be told,_

_My griefs when they be told,_

_To shades and darkness_

_Find some ease from paining._"

Professor Flitwick had an expression of exquisite pleasure on his face, having been transported entirely by the twisting wall of sound.

"_And while thou all in silence dost enfold,_

_In silence dost enfold,_

_And while thou all in silence dost enfold,_

_I then shall have best time for my complaining._"

They were getting quieter now, winding up the complaint gently and with great skill.

"_I then shall have best time for my complaining,_

_For my complaining,_

_I then shall have best time for my complaining._"*

There was a ringing silence for a few seconds as the four of them finished singing, before the audience, as one, burst into storm of spontaneous applause, which was enthusiastically echoed in the wings. Somewhere amongst them, Professor Flitwick had burst into proud and happy tears.

When the tumult had died down, James got unsteadily to his feet, knees and legs a little numb from kneeling for so long.

"Now unto thy bones goodnight!" he exclaimed. "Yearly will I do this rite."

"Good morrow, masters," said Algernon, solemnly. "The wolves have preyed, and look, the gentle day, before the wheels of Phoebus, round about dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. Thanks to you all, and leave us. Fare you well."

"Good morrow, masters," James echoed. "Each his several way."

They watched the musicians and choir depart, Peter following them, head bowed as if in prayer.

"Come, let us hence and put on other weeds," said Algernon, his hand resting on his friend's shoulder. "And then to Leonato's we will go."

Together, they left.

0o0o0o0

The lights came back up on Leonato's chapel, where everything seemed alive with bustle – the crew had been required to put on costumes and rush about the stage purposefully. Out of the general chaos came Frank and his household, Remus, and a cheerful looking Peter; they hurried forwards.

"Did I not tell you she was innocent?" Peter said, beaming.

"So are the Prince and Claudio, who accused her upon the error that you heard debated," said Frank, happily. "And Margaret was in some fault for this," he said, taking Alice's hand reassuringly. "Although against her will, as it appears in the true course of all the question."

"Well," said Severus, pulling on his waistcoat and chuckling. "I am glad that all things sorts so well."

Remus nodded.

"And so am I," he said. "Being else by faith enforced to call young Claudio to a reckoning for it."

Eleanor offered him a shy smile, which he returned while her uncles' backs were turned.

"Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen all, withdraw into a chamber by yourselves," said Frank. "And when I send for you, come hither masked. The Prince and Claudio promised by this hour to visit me." He turned to Severus as Lily, Eleanor, Alice and Claire went to hide in the chapel. "You know your office, brother," he said. "You must be father to you brother's daughter, and give her to young Claudio."

"Which I will do with confirmed countenance," said Severus nodding.

"Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think," said Remus, suddenly looking quite uncomfortable.

"To do what, signior?" asked Peter, puzzled.

"To bind me, or undo me – one of them," said Remus, and the audience chuckled. "Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, your niece regards me with an eye of favour."

"That eye my daughter lent her," said Frank, with a wry smile. "'Tis most true."

"And I do with an eye of love requite her," said Remus, nervously, and the audience laughed again.

"The sight whereof I think you had from me, from Claudio, and the Prince," said Frank. "But what's your will?"

"Your answer, sir, is enigmatical," said Remus, giving him a look of confusion. "But, for my will – my will is, your good will may stand with ours, this day to be conjoined in the state of –" he took a deep breath. "– honourable marriage," the audience laughed along with Frank and Peter. "In which, good friar, I shall desire your help."

"My heart is with your liking," said Frank, and clapped him about the back.

"And my help," said Peter, and Remus did a tiny victory dance behind their backs, much to the amusement of the audience. "Here comes the Prince and Claudio," Peter said, suddenly.

Peter, Frank, Severus and Remus took up their positions in front of the chapel, doing their best to look sombre. The rest of the cast and crew followed Algernon and James in, taking their places to witness the marriage.

"Good morrow to this fair assemblage," said Algernon, respectfully.

"Good morrow, Prince," said Frank, stiffly. "Good morrow, Claudio. We here attend you. Are you yet determined today to marry with my brother's daughter?"

"I'll hold my mind," said James, solemnly.

"Call her forth, brother," said Frank. "Here's the Friar ready.

Severus went to the chapel and slipped through the door.

"Good morrow, Benedick," said Algernon. "Why, what's the matter that you have such a February face, so full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness?"

"I think he thinks upon the savage bull," said James, as Remus rolled his eyes. "Tush, fear not man! We'll tip thy horns with gold, and all Europe shall rejoice at thee, as once Europa did at the lusty Jove when he would play the noble beast in love."

"Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low," said Remus, lightly. "And some such strange bull leaped your father's cow and got a calf in that same noble feat much like to you, for you have his bleat."

James narrowed his eyes.

"For this I owe you," he said, coldly. Here comes other reck'nings."

Severus led the four ladies forwards, their faces covered with white lace.

"Which is the lady I must seize upon?" asked James, politely.

"This same is she," said Severus, leading Lily forward gently. "And I do give her to you."

"Why then, she's mine," said James, humbly. "Sweet," he said, taking her hand. "Let me see your face."

"No," said Frank, in a commanding tone. "That you shall not till you take her hand before this friar and swear to marry her."

"Give me your hand," said James, kneeling before Lily. "Before this holy friar I am your husband if you like of me."

At this, Lily lifted her veil; the majority of the congregation gasped theatrically. James and Algernon looked utterly bewildered.

"And when I lived, I was your other wife," said Lily, tearfully. "And when you loved, you were my other husband."

"Another Hero!" James exclaimed, astonished.

"Nothing certainer," said she. "One Hero died defiled; but I do live, and surely as I live, I am a maid."

"The former Hero!" said Algernon, wonderingly. "Hero that is dead!"

"She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived," said Frank.

"All this amazement can I qualify," said Peter, beaming. "When, after that the holy rites are ended, I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death. Meantime let wonder seem familiar!"

There was an air of general dispersal as the assembly chattered to one another in shock.

"Soft and fair, friar," said Remus, striding forward. "Which is Beatrice?"

Eleanor, who had been trying to slip out of the limelight, was pushed forward by Claire and Alice.

"I answer to that name," she said, removing her veil with a cough. "What is your will?"

"Do not you love me?" Remus asked, to general amusement, onstage and off.

"Why, no," Eleanor cried, caught off-guard. "No more than reason!"

"Why, then, your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio have been deceived," he said, astonished. "They swore you did."

"Do not you love me?" asked Eleanor, the audience giggling at her expression.

"Troth no," Remus shot back, suddenly very aware that this exchange was happening in front of one hell of a lot of people. "No more than reason."

"Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula are much deceived," she said. "For they did swear you did!"

"They swore that you were almost sick for me," cried Remus, hot and bewildered.

"They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me," said Eleanor.

"'Tis no such matter," Remus assured her. "Then…" he said, and a flash of disappointment crossed his features. "You do not love me?"

"No, truly," said Eleanor. "But in friendly recompense."

Remus nodded, and they turned away from one another, their arms crossed and scarlet with embarrassment. The audience howled with laughter.

"Come cousin," Frank cajoled. "I'm sure you love the gentleman."

Eleanor scowled at him.

"And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her," said James, grinning. He strode forward and picked Remus's pocket expertly, producing a small scroll of parchment. "For here's a paper written in his hand, a halting sonnet of his own pure brain, fashioned to Beatrice."

He gave the scroll to Eleanor, who snatched it from him eagerly, and began to read; the audience tittered. Lily hurried forward, picked Eleanor's pocket and produced a second scroll, which she handed to Remus.

"And here's another," she said, grinning, and dancing backwards out of Eleanor's reach as her cousin tried to slap her hands. "Writ in my cousin's hand, stol'n from her pocket, containing her affection unto Benedick."

The pair read in silence for a few moments as the audience laughed.

"A miracle!" Remus announced. "Here's our own hands against our hearts." He turned to Eleanor, and took one of her hands. "Come, I will have thee," he said, and the audience chuckled at her 'Oh-will-you-now?' expression. "But, by this light, I take you for pity," he added, and Eleanor laughed, relenting.

"I would not deny you," she said, with a warning look at her cousin and uncles. "But, by this good day," she continued, "I yield under great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption."

The audience roared with laughter as Remus chuckled.

"Peace!" he said, and took her about the waist. "I will stop your mouth!"

There were whoops and cheers from the audience (and cast, actually) as they kissed, and broke apart, smiling at one another almost shyly.

"How dost thou, Benedick, the married man?" asked Algernon, with a grin.

Remus chuckled.

"I'll tell thee what, Prince," said he. "A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my good humour. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No. Since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion." He turned to James, and gave him a friendly and forgiving smile. "For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin," he concluded, with a nod to the smiling Lily.

"I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life," said James, lightly. "To make thee a double-dealer, which out of question thou wilt be if my cousin do not look exceedingly narrowly to thee."

Lily and Eleanor exchanged a look and both, absently, lightly smacked their young men.

"Come, come," said Remus. "We are friends!"

He and James embraced.

"Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels!" Remus cried, to general agreement; the musicians appeared as if from nowhere.

"We'll have dancing afterward," said Frank, firmly.

"First, of my word," cried Remus, buoyantly. "Therefore, play music!" He walked over to Algernon as the musicians tuned up. "Prince, thou art sad," he said. "Get thee a wife, get thee a wife!"

They laughed together, and the audience joined them.

Archibald Beck elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, followed by Helbert and Wilbur, who were dragging a scowling Sirius.

"My lord," said Archibald, with a brief bow. "Your brother John is ta'en in flight, and brought with armèd men back to Messina."

Algernon and Sirius glared at one another with open contempt.

"Think not on him till tomorrow," said Remus, darkly. "I'll devise thee brave punishments for him."

They watched as the Watch led their struggling prisoner offstage.

"Strike up, Pipers!" cried Remus, taking Eleanor's hand and leading her offstage to dance.

0o0o0o0

Eleanor's head was buzzing as she danced offstage and lined up to take her bows; the players came onstage in pairs, taking a bow or a curtsy and assembling in their pre-set places. She thought she saw her mother's beaming face beyond the glare of the lights, and glimpsed Estelle and Henrì near the back; they were sat with someone she couldn't quite make out, but whoever it was, was clapping enthusiastically.

Remus led the cast in a group bow, then acknowledged the band and assorted techies, before leading the final bow.

As they trailed offstage to change into their clothes for the Gala, he pulled her to one side and kissed her.

"What was that for?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Because I can, now," he grinned. "May I have the honour of the first dance, my lady?" he asked, with a theatrical flourish.

Eleanor laughed.

"Have you been possessed by Sirius or something?" she asked, surprised at him. "Of course you may!"

"I'm just a bit hyper from the play, I think," he said, a little embarrassed at himself.

Eleanor kissed his cheek.

"You're wonderful whatever," she said, and slipped behind a screen to change.

"That was _amazing_!" Lily cried, rearranging her hair. "I never thought it could be like that!"

"Something of a rush," Severus agreed, from somewhere behind another screen.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight," Alice giggled. "Oh, I'm so glad that the House Elves are clearing up for us."

"I will," said Peter, struggling out of his habit and into his dress robes. "As soon as the Gala's over I'll be out like a light."

"And aching all over tomorrow," agreed Claire. "Like usual."

"Look!" cried James, over the general noise.

In the lake, not twenty yards from them, the Giant Squid had swum up to see them; she was enthusiastically applauding, great tentacles splashing all over the place.

"I guess she enjoyed it," said Sirius, laughing.

"Well," said Frank, brushing himself down, and looking about him. "I think we did a fine job, after all that."

Eleanor nodded, pulling her shoes on.

Algernon wandered over, looking dapper in his midnight blue dress robes.

"Shall we go and meet our adoring public?" he asked, with a grin.

0o0o0o0

As expected, the majority of the school had migrated inside for the dancing, but adoring parents and the odd few friends had lingered to show their support.

Eleanor managed to give Estelle a brief wave before being whisked off in a business-like fashion by Madame Pomfrey. With a startled and bewildered look at Remus, who had immediately begun to follow them, Eleanor was half dragged through the crowd.

"What-?"

"Hush, Miss Wren," Madame Pomfrey hissed. "I'm trying to help your mother avoid a scene."

Surprised that Madame Pomfrey and her mother knew one another, Eleanor tried to keep up with the older witch, stumbling from time to time.

"Madame, s'il vous plait – vous êtes blesser mon bras!" she hissed, surprising a couple of the students around her. Madame Pomfrey shot her a look and loosened her grip slightly.

"Je suis désolé, Madamoiselle Wren," said the matron, with a swift glance at Remus, who was still following them, watching their exchange with curiosity. "Mais nous devons être rapide – faire essayer de suivre."

"Mais oui, Madame," she reached out and managed to grab Remus's hand, pulling him along with them. "La aristocrate est ici? Quelles sont ses intentions?"

"Il a l'intention de honte votre mere – publiquement, si possible."

"Merde!" she hissed, stumbling slightly, and Madame Pomfrey gave her a Look.

"Regardez à votre langue, Madamoiselle Wren," she admonished, then – to Eleanor's surprise, gave her a rather grim smile. "Nous ne sommes pas prêts à laisser la aristocrate ont son chemin." **

They arrived outside a chamber just off the Great Hall; Eleanor and Remus dusted themselves down.

"Do you _ever_ stop trailing after Miss Wren?" Madame Pomfrey asked him, and he went scarlet. "I'll take that as a 'no'." She looked them over appraisingly. "Although, this time, you may very well come in handy, Mr Lupin… an excellent performance by the way, both of you."

She gave them a long look, and said, almost to herself: "You all grow up so quickly…"

She pushed the door open, and Eleanor took a deep breath; Remus brushed his hand against hers as they went in, letting her know that he was with her in this, however he could be.

Professor Dumbledore was leaning against a fireplace, cheerfully chatting with Minister Appleby; Professor McGonagall was talking amiably with Madame Buchardt. Minister Buchardt was keeping to himself, sipping wine in the corner. He looked almost buoyant; triumphant. It was all Eleanor could do not to go over there and kick him. She settled for drawing herself up to her full height and smiling shyly.

"Poppy?" asked Professor Dumbledore, eyeing the two students.

"I thought our guests might like to congratulate our stars in person," she said, and Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore shared a look.

Eleanor understood. There was no way, having seen her mother, that they could have any doubt of her identity; they had decided to Stay Out of It. Fair enough. She didn't expect anyone to fight her battles for her; she was of age, after all.

Minister Appleby, who was a good deal ruddier than earlier, grinned happily; apparently the mead was keeping her face appropriately blurry.

"By Jove! An excellent idea, Madame Pomfrey!" he sprang forwards and wrung Remus's hand. "A triumph!" he declared. "You kept us laughing – Ha! Topper!"

"Thank you sir," said Remus, aware that if he hadn't been so worried for Eleanor he would have had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"And you, Miss," cried Minister Appleby, and kissed her hand, gallantly. "It's not every day you meet a young gal with such spirit! And such a beauty, to boot!" He beamed down at her, and she dimpled, prettily, through her blush. "You all put on a fine show – you will tell your co-stars?"

"Yes, sir, thank you sir," she said.

"Good show!" he cried. "Weren't they magnificent?" he asked the room at large.

"They were indeed," said Professor McGonagall, allowing them both a rare smile. "All the seventh years have worked so hard."

Dumbledore twinkled at them.

"And with excellent results!" the Minister boomed, oblivious to the dark expression on Minister Buchardt's thin face. "For such a good cause too, don'cher'think, Madame Buchardt?"

"En effet, monsieur," Violetta said, warmly. "Zey were magnifique."

"Oh, call me Everard, dear lady."

"Everard," she echoed, with a graceful dip of her elegant head. "My 'usband and I are always 'appy to support charity – especially when eet 'elps les enfants. Eet was fortunate zat we were able to attend tonight."

"Mais oui, Violetta," said Minister Buchardt, suddenly. "Fortunate indeed, don't you think?"

Eleanor contrived to look politely confused, glad of the months of acting practice.

"Eef we 'ad not," he continued, enjoying the feeling of control as seven pairs of eyes followed him. "We would never 'ave seen these fine young people."

He shook Remus's hand, and Eleanor was incensed to see him wipe his hand absently on his robes, as if Remus were somehow dirty.

"Et toi, mademoiselle," he said, making to kiss Eleanor's hand; he pulled her forwards into the light. "She eez très belle, eez she not?"

Dumbledore was frowning slightly at this behaviour; Minister Appleby, although not having a clue what was going on, had at least picked up on Minister Buchardt's tone, and was blinking at him in good-natured confusion. The expressions on all three of the women's faces were unreadable, but Eleanor could tell from Professor McGonagall's body language that she didn't like him threatening a student.

"Een fact, she eez almost as beautiful as you, Madame," he turned to Eleanor. "Are you not, Madamoiselle?"

"Sir?" she asked, doing a rather good impression of someone very confused, given the circumstances.

"Come now, Madamoiselle," he said, physically turning her to face her mother. "Do you not think you are as pretty as my wife?"

"Now steady on," said Minister Appleby, uncertainly, but Minister Buchardt ignored him.

"En effet," he continued, voice growing silky with the anticipation of triumph. "Now zat I see you both, I would say zat you look quite alike, non?" he prodded Eleanor, none too gently, in the ribs.

"Ouch," she said loudly, and pulled away from him.

Madame Pomfrey tutted loudly, and she heard a slight gasp; she didn't need to turn around to know what Professor McGonagall's expression would be.

"Sir!" Minister Appleby cried, appalled at the behaviour of his guest.

"I would ask you to refrain from bullying my students," said Professor Dumbledore, reasonably.

If Minister Buchardt noticed the slight edge to the headmaster's voice, he ignored it, apparently under the misguided impression that his influence excluded him from such admonishment.

"What do you say, Violetta?" he asked, voice taut with cruel excitement. "Eez zis young lady not – 'ow eez it you British say eet? Zee 'spitting image' of you?"

"I suppose zere is a resemblance," said Madame Buchardt, graciously. "But Huon, you are being rude –"

"Am I, Madame?" he asked, and there was an edge of hysteria in his voice now. "Am I, indeed! You deny, zen, the likeness between you and zee young lady?"

"She's already said there's a resemblance," said Minister Appleby, tightly. "By Jove man, what are you at?"

"I am suggesting," said Minister Buchardt. "Zat zis young lady is so like my wife that she might well be a relation!" he cried.

"I'm afraid sir, that you must be mistaken," said Eleanor, quietly. "My parents died when I was very young – but I was brought up by my aunt Estelle. Surely, if I was related to Madame Buchardt, my aunt would have told me?"

"The gal has a point," began Minister Appleby, but Minister Buchardt cut across him.

"You would think zat, no?" he said, eyes sparkling maliciously. "But what eef your aunt 'as been instructed not to tell you, mademoiselle?"

There was a pause, in which everyone sane tried not to bring attention to themselves; Remus gave up.

"But why would anyone do that, sir?" he asked, and Eleanor noticed that he had been edging closer to her; she was glad of his proximity.

"What a good question!" the Minister cried, looking more than a little mad. "You are tres intelligent, mon jeune maître, savez-vous?" He grinned at Remus, and Eleanor noticed with slight revulsion that the Minister's teeth were filed to points. "En effet, why? Do you know Madame?" he asked his wife, but Madame Buchardt had decided to give him enough rope to hang himself with, so she stayed silent.

"Do you know what I think?" he continued, with his terrible smile. "I think you know zis young lady. I think you know 'er very well. _I_ think, Madame, zat she is your daughter," he said, barely above a whisper.

There was a tense silence; Minister Appleby looked at his guest, appalled.

"Sir! What an accusation! And in public, too! It's just not cricket, don'cher'know!"

"Madame?" Professor Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling; he was letting her know that he was on her side.

"En effet, Monsieur, zis belle mademoiselle eez my daughter," she shot Eleanor a brilliant smile. "And she eez magnifique."

Minister Appleby stared between them, thoroughly nonplussed by the whole affair.

Eleanor marvelled at her mother's unflinching acceptance; Minister Buchardt, however, did not appear to have noticed.

"A-HA!" he cried, looking quite deranged. "You see, Madame? I find out everyzing! You are nozing more zan a poufiasse!"

There was a general intake of breath as the French-speakers in the room understood him and took offence; Dumbledore raised a cold eyebrow.

"Monsieur!" cried Madame Pomfrey, incensed.

Eleanor looked at her mother; clearly, she wanted him to make an utter fool of himself.

"What does that mean?" she asked, the very picture of innocence. "I don't know what you could mean, sir..."

"You poor leetle thing," he said, putting what was probably intended as a comforting arm about her shoulders. This time, she couldn't stop the look of utter revulsion from crossing her features, but he wasn't paying attention. "See, see how she 'as 'urt thees leetle fille, exposing 'er to such 'eartbreak? You are too cruel madame. Not fit to be my wife."

The shock rolled around that part of the room that hadn't seen this coming, which, largely, meant the unfortunate Minister Appleby.

"What does 'poufaisse' mean?" asked Remus, voice tight with surrogate anger.

"Eet describes my belle wife, precisement," said Minister Buchardt, almost joyfully; Eleanor used the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp, and went to stand on the other side of Remus.

"Eet means," said Madame Buchardt, with quiet dignity. "Prostitute… whore…"

Professor McGonagall and Minister Appleby gasped.

"Sir!" Minister Appleby exclaimed. "Steady on!"

"I think it's time for Mr Lupin and Miss Wren to return to the dance," said Professor McGonagall, stiffly.

"Indeed," said Professor Dumbledore, with an air of finality.

Before they were hustled from the room, Eleanor met her mother's eyes: 'it will be ok, ma trésor', they said.

"You have been very rude, sir," Eleanor said, shaking with anger as Professor McGonagall herded them from the room. "Very rude."

It took a few minutes for her to calm down, and she waited outside on the balcony that they both now regarded as 'theirs' while Remus spirited away a couple of glasses of wine. They were of age now, after all.

"Will she be alright?" he asked, handing her a full goblet, which she took from him, gratefully.

"She'll manage," she said, sipping her wine. "Getting us in the chamber with Minister Appleby was a stroke of genius on Madame Pomfrey's part. And Professor Dumbledore. Whatever Minister Buchardt does, they'll be on my mother's side. And theirs are voices that will be listened to. He made her into Hero."

Remus nodded, wrapping an arm around her almost absently.

"She did that well," he remarked. "The Minister – what did you call him? 'La aristocrate'?"

"'The gentleman'."

"The gentleman made a complete arse of himself," he said. "And your mother was grace itself. That will count for a lot. It was beautifully done."

"Particularly as he insisted upon drawing me in," Eleanor reflected. "That's going to rankle with parents."

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the music coming from the Great Hall behind them.

"Shall we go in?" Remus asked, raising her hand to his lips.

"I _did_ promise you that first dance…" she said.

"You did…" he stood and looked at her for a moment, an odd light in his eyes.

"What?"

"I was just thinking that a year ago we were setting out to live completely apart…"

"'Rules for Best Friends,'" Eleanor said, ruefully.

"Perhaps we need 'Rules for Lovers,'" Remus reflected.

Eleanor laughed, and kissed him.

"I think we should just muddle through, making mistakes and arsing about like everyone else," she said.

Remus chuckled.

"That works for me," he said.

Fingers entwined, and leaning into one another, they walked into the Gala to find their friends.

0o0o0o0

*'Draw on Sweet Night,' by Thomas Wilbye (I think). If you wish to be amazed, there's a very good video of it on youtube, performed by the Trinity College, Cambridge Chapel Choir in 2005, sung at the end of a concert as they float away down river; just goes to show that, contrary to popular belief, it is quite possible for ordinary people to perform magic.

**The English translation (roughly):

"Madame, please – you're hurting my arm!" she hissed, surprising a couple of the students around her. Madame Pomfrey shot her a look and loosened her grip slightly.

"I am sorry, Miss Wren," said the matron, with a swift glance at Remus, who was still following them, watching their exchange with curiosity. "But we must be quick – do try to keep up."

"Yes, Madame," she reached out and managed to grab Remus's hand, pulling him along with them. "The gentleman is here? What are his intentions?"

"He intends to disgrace your mother – publicly, if possible."

"Shit!" she hissed, stumbling slightly, and Madame Pomfrey gave her a Look.

"Watch your language, Miss Wren," she admonished, then – to Eleanor's surprise, gave her a rather grim smile. "We're not about to let the gentleman have his way."


	35. Exeunt, Part the First

'_Life is like a play: it's not the length but the excellence of the acting that matters' – Seneca_

0o0o0o0

He watched them walking into the Great Hall, hand in hand. He'd been worried about them – when they'd hurried past a few minutes before, Eleanor had looked ready to kill someone, and given the unexpected appearance of her mother, he imagined that it would be Minister Buchardt whose life was on the line.

He was glad they'd sorted themselves out – although from what Wormy had been hinting, it had all been even more complicated than he'd thought. He looked forward to giving Moony a good grilling in the morning (well, afternoon). Padfoot too…

He glanced at his other best friend, who was talking to that Dorothy from Ravenclaw; after all the hell they'd gone through trying to figure out how to prevent the melt-down of the century, he'd only been protecting Eleanor as a friend. A slightly over-bearing friend, but a friend, nonetheless.

James sighed, and continued to lean against his pillar.

Sirius could be such a pillock sometimes, for all that he loved him. Dorothy wasn't the type you'd expect to see him chatting up (although, he conceded, Sirius's 'type' was mostly anything that walked past and had roughly two legs)… he thought back to that evening the year before when they'd discussed their 'types', and a smile spread across his handsome face. Sirius had said at the time that he liked Remus's description, and Dorothy certainly fitted it.

The sly git. All this time, they'd got the signs right, and misread the direction. Dorothy Cottingley, eh? He'd have to ask Lily what she was like…

Lily.

He looked over at where she was standing with her parents and her awful sister. She didn't look comfortable. His mum and dad were still talking to Professor Sprout (not really a _bad_ thing, as such, but he was still a _little_ worried about what she might say)…

Perhaps it was time to introduce himself…

0o0o0o0

Her dad was looking around with obvious admiration; she had to hand it to her teachers, they really knew how to put on a show. He looked a little uncomfortable in his muggle suit, surrounded by all the dress robes, but he wasn't the only one. He'd given her a big hug when she'd come out from backstage, and told her that he was proud of her, and he genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself. He was chatting with Professor Flitwick, and hadn't even done a double take when he'd met the diminutive choir master.

She hadn't seen him this happy since she'd started at Hogwarts – since her mother had left he'd been so quiet, and then with her going off to school in another country (well, sort of; it's joined on, but it _is_ another country), another world, even… She worried about him. But today he was ok, and that made _her_ happy.

Peter was chatting with his parents over by the big fireplace, and she didn't want to disturb them. He was beaming, exhilarated as they all were from the play, and Claire felt her heart melting. It was extraordinary, really, the power that boy had over her: able to reduce her to a blithering mess just by smiling, or make her feel like she could conquer the world just by giving her a hug. She shook her head, slightly. He really was one in a million.

He was also beckoning her over. Oh, Merlin, she was going to meet his parents…

She'd seen them, briefly, over the summer, of course, but hadn't been properly introduced. They looked friendly enough… and anyway, she could wreak her revenge later on in the evening by introducing him to _her_ Dad. She could practically hear the 'I'm-not-trying-to-be-overbearing-_but_' speech running through his mind.

She brushed herself down and smiled brightly.

Well, it was now or never…

0o0o0o0

He'd been happily chatting to Dorothy for a good half hour when he felt the eyes on him. He froze, and Dorothy moved away to get a drink. There were very few people who had a stare like that, and (thankfully) neither his parents nor his cousins were here tonight… They would probably have tried to hex him onstage, assuming they could think of a convenient excuse to diffuse any possible scandal.

No, it had to be Regulus.

He finally spotted him lurking by the doors to the Great Hall; he raised an eyebrow, coldly. Regulus indicated, with a jerk of his head, that he wanted to talk: outside.

Great, he was probably about to be murdered by his little brother and everyone else was too busy to notice…

He drew himself up, ignoring how much this coldness hurt, and followed Regulus out into the Entrance Hall.

"What?" he asked, with no preamble. To his surprise, Regulus looked nervous, almost edgy. He was fiddling with the hems of his sleeves.

"I just wanted to say," said Regulus, in a small voice. "Good show."

Sirius stared at him.

"I know you hate hearing it, but if our parents were less… well…" he glanced up at him. "They would say that you had done us proud."

"They could go to hell," said Sirius, though with much less force than he'd intended. He glanced around, suddenly worried that Bellatrix would spring out from nowhere and hex him.

"Very well then," said Regulus, tersely. "Then _I_ say that _I'm_ proud of you."

Sirius's mouth fell open.

"Thanks," he managed.

The two boys looked at one another – _really_ looked.

"You look well," said Regulus.

"_You_ don't," said Sirius, with real concern. "You don't look like you've slept in weeks."

To his surprise, Regulus laughed, hollowly.

"Mother says that I'm 'glowing with respectful ardour for the cause'," he said.

"Well she always did have a few screws loose," said Sirius, and then winced, expecting his brother to snarl at him, but Regulus nodded – actually _nodded_.

"She's not the only one," he said, quietly. "I was so proud of myself… getting to be a Death Eater – I thought I was doing the right thing – the best thing possible for the family, for me…" he looked up, miserably. "I was wrong."

Sirius searched for something comforting and big-brotherly to say (that wasn't 'I bloody well told you so').

"Well…"

"I should have listened to you," said Regulus, in an exhausted rush. "But I thought I was being _so_ clever… and now there's no going back."

"No way out?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"No," said Regulus. "I've seen what happens to the people who try…"

Sirius had never seen his brother look younger, more vulnerable; something deep inside him clicked, and suddenly he knew what to do. He put an arm around his shoulders (in a manly way, of course).

"Is there anything I can do?"

Regulus smiled, weakly.

"Only if you can destroy the Dark Lord and all his supporters except me in one fell swoop," he joked, and Sirius smiled. Their faces fell in unison. "Look," said Regulus, quietly. "I know that what's coming to me isn't going to be pleasant, and is likely to be…" he met his brother's eyes for a terrible moment. "… permanent, but I wanted you to know that you were right, and… I'm sorry… for not believing you…"

"It won't come to that," Sirius growled, taking his brother's shoulders, and Regulus looked taken aback by his brothers' ferocity. "I won't let it!"

"I don't think there's much you can do… I don't think there's much _anyone_ can do. So I've made a decision…"

Sirius waited as patiently as he could; was his brother really telling him that death was the only option?

"I'm more or less doomed either way," he said, quietly. "So I want to go out doing the right thing. I'm not very high up in the ranks, but there _is_ information that I can pass to Dumbledore…"

Sirius stared at him, open-mouthed.

"But I don't think he'll trust me. Will you go with me?" he asked, the last sentence coming out all in a rush, as if he didn't really want to have to ask.

"Of course I will, but –"

"There's no other way, Sirius," Regulus sighed, looking horribly old and all-too-young all at the same time.

"I – we just – we shouldn't be having to make plans like this," said Sirius, hotly. "We should be talking about girls and sneaking Firewhiskey from the kitchens!"

"I know," said Regulus. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," said Sirius. "Ok, you willingly became a Death Eater, but you _are_ fifteen – and don't give me any crap about being old enough to make that kind of decision, I _know_ you are. I also know that when _I_ was fifteen I nearly killed three of my best friends." Regulus looked up, suddenly curious, but Sirius carried on. "And the fact you're taking responsibility for your actions is brilliant, but it's not your fault that the world's gone stupid." He paused, and sighed. "I'd give anything for you not to have to do this," he said, quietly.

"Me too."

Sirius nodded.

"I'll do anything I can to help," he said, firmly. "Friday lunchtime, we'll start a fight so spectacular that we'll _have_ to go to Dumbledore."

Regulus nodded, expression grim.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it…" he looked at his brother. "You have no idea how proud I am of you," he said.

They regarded one another soberly, for a moment.

"So," said Sirius, with the air of someone who has absolutely no idea what to say. "You got a girlfriend yet?"

Regulus stared at him for a few moments before cracking a rare grin.

"Tosser."

0o0o0o0

She forced everything she was feeling about her mother and 'the gentleman' out of her head as Remus led her towards the dance-floor; this time was just for them.

He whirled her around in a practiced manner, leading Eleanor to once more wonder whether the younger years of students were forced to attend some kind of secret dancing classes. She could feel several pairs of eyes on them, probably including their respective parents and guardians; but they (and their associated high levels of mortification) could wait.

She smiled up at him as they danced; they felt so _right_ like this, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they swayed and waltzed to the music. His eyes were sparkling with laughter and delight as they completed their circuit of the room, revelling in the acceptable proximity the dance afforded.

When it ended, Remus kissed her hand gently and gave her a small bow, making her laugh. They moved out of the dance-floor and retreated to the drinks table.

"Here's to many more," Remus said, happily, and raised his goblet in a toast.

She lifted her own cup to meet it.

"Although hopefully in more comfortable shoes," Eleanor remarked, and he chuckled. "Ow."

"You could always take them off," he said, his arm resting comfortably about her waist.

"I'd lose them," she replied. "Or Sirius and James would make off with them and make them do something awful the next time I have to wear them."

He presented a stung expression, though Eleanor could see the laughter just behind it.

"I'd stop them," he said.

"And then do something less dangerous but equally annoying."

"I'm offended."

"No you aren't," she said, giving him a playful shove. "You're secretly pleased that somebody knows about your nefarious streak. You can't let Sirius and James have all the credit for your evil genius, after all."

Remus appeared to reflect for a moment.

"True," he said. "And it's fairly obvious I'll never be able to hide anything from you."

Eleanor grinned.

"Good."

Abruptly, his face changed.

"What?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I…" He frowned, and looked around. "It doesn't matter…"

"You'll tell me later?"

"Yes," he said. "Look, I'm going to nip to the bathroom…"

She watched him walk off, still looking around suspiciously. _Boys_, she thought, and went to join her guardians at the other side of the room.

"So, mon petit roitelet, you 'ave a beau?" Estelle asked, as soon as she was within earshot; behind her, Severus was grinning evilly with a gleeful look that clearly said: 'Your turn!'

0o0o0o0

He had watched them dancing, Eleanor and the young werewolf, and was still smiling from the image. He'd known that she had a paramour – there were always little tells, little tricks of behaviour to watch out for… Poppy and Violetta had been just the same. He'd tried to work out which one of them it was when he'd met them in the summer, somewhat unsuccessfully – although, once he'd dismissed the possibility of it being Severus he had wondered about that quiet, polite boy with the scars.

Even then he'd reminded him of Antoine, even in they way he moved…

He was happy for them. These young people, always having time to fall in love.

He looked over to where Estelle was teasing her young charge and smiled, warmly. They had been just the same, and had, in his opinion, chosen one another very wisely indeed. Growing old disgracefully with Estelle was excellent fun… he fervently hoped that Eleanor and the young werewolf would have just as much luck, wisdom and courage as they had needed…

And considerably more luck than Violetta had had.

Henrì frowned and glanced at the huge doors at the end of the Hall; she was still yet to appear, as was her awful husband. He hoped that she would be alright… something like this could shake her considerable fortifications…

Fortunately, he reflected, in place of luck she had been gifted an inordinate amount of cunning, which seemed to have set her in good stead thus far…

He ran his hand through his sparse, white hair.

He was getting too old for this. Perhaps, given that their charge was now of age, it was time to consider retirement…

A nice cottage on the south coast, perhaps… closer to Antoine and Monique, and their growing brood of hearty young children… somewhere warmer than the mountains in winter…

It would be sad to leave the chalet, of course, but it hadn't really ever been theirs, as much as they had loved it… perhaps Eleanor would take it over… assuming she didn't stay in Britain now.

He looked over at the young lady, now glowering at Severus, who was looking like he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation. He remembered when she had first arrived at the chalet: a tiny ball of blankets that seemed determined to scream the house down. He'd thought she was beautiful, even then…

His petit chou had grown up so quickly, and so gracefully…

He would miss her dearly.

0o0o0o0

It had, perhaps, been a little mean of him to spring a sudden meeting on Claire, but she was managing it beautifully – and he had no doubt that she'd repay him with an introduction to her father before the evening was out. His mum and dad liked her very much, which, as far as he was concerned, was a Very Good Thing. He watched her chattering with them, somewhere between elated and nervous, and remembered all over again why it was he had fallen for her in the first place.

He couldn't help but smile at her, particularly when she looked so happy; he'd always had a bit of a thing for her, and he was infinitely grateful to Eleanor for talking him into asking her out. He'd never have done it without her gentle prodding, and he was sure now that he would have regretted that for the rest of his life.

Letting his eyes wander about the room, he glanced at each of his friends in turn, all of them talking with parents or dancing happily about the Great Hall. Who would have thought it?

If someone had told him a year ago that he would number Severus Snape among his closest friends, he probably would have laughed so hard he'd be sick, but now…

And two years ago, if someone had said he'd be with Claire, or James would be with Lily, or Remus with, well, anyone... or Sirius with Dorothy Cottingley, for Merlin's sake (he really hadn't seen that one coming, but it did kind of make sense in a Sirius sort of way).

He'd felt himself drifting away from Sirius and James, back then… even Remus and Frank had been a little distant at times, but he realised now that it was just a part of being stuck as a teenager, with so many thoughts and emotions rattling around your brain that you didn't know what to do with any of it…

He looked around again, fondly.

His friends…

His family…

Nothing would ever come between them again, he'd see to that.

0o0o0o0

She watched Sirius come back into the Great Hall, looking strangely closed off, like he was carrying an even heavier burden than before, and shook her head. He was a tricky one, that boy… he seemed determined to take the weight of the world upon his shoulders, even when there were people about to help share the load. She'd have to have a word with Eleanor about him.

She was glad that Eleanor and Remus had finally got together… she'd been watching them since the night the Tower had nearly exploded and they'd held hands by accident… Eleanor had always been nice to her, and from what she could tell about Remus, he was a nice, kind, boy…

She'd remembered the way his face had looked after Eleanor had been attacked back in May and smiled, grimly. There was a man who would never let her down. Their friends, too.

For all their horsing around, the strange family that had solidified around them would always be there when they were needed…

She glanced at her brother, who was stood looking bored by the buffet table, his friends having gone off to get themselves in trouble. He was trying to stay out of it this year, she knew… their mother had given him quite a severe talking-to at the end of the summer… He scuffed his shoes, sulkily.

She glanced around… it wasn't really time yet to begin her campaign of mischief – the current troublemakers were still in residence, after all…

But Corin looked so lonely, over there on his own… and no one was paying attention to the punch bowl, which his friends had been trying to spike with something… She fingered the bubble potion in her pocket, thoughtfully, and came to a decision.

"Corin," she greeted him, walking over.

They wouldn't mind a bit of competition, just for one night…

0o0o0o0

She just couldn't work him out. She'd been trying to understand him for the better part of two years, to no avail… for a boy whose emotions tended to be painted all over his expressive face, he had a knack for keeping parts of himself hidden. She didn't blame him, really… he'd told her about his family, and she couldn't imagine how much it must have hurt to have been so thoroughly cast out.

Perhaps she could help to make it better.

He'd been so _angry_ lately, and she'd heard about his little 'misunderstanding' about his best friends. His loyalty was commendable, of course, but he really needed to think a little more before plunging so completely into situations he didn't fully understand…

She smiled, wryly, at herself. But of course, that was the Ravenclaw in her talking, and he was, after all, one fourth of Gryffindor's 'golden boys'. Convincing him to take a steadying breath before throwing himself forward would take a long time… time that she was, she realised, more than willing to give him.

And then there was the question of _her_.

She'd had a crush on Sirius for years, and it still made her blush when he was around (though she felt she'd managed to keep a lid on it recently, which had taken some practice), and who really wants to be so obviously enamoured on someone with a well-earned reputation like his? She'd been so sure that he loved Trixie (he went off with her all the time, after all), and had had a horrible few weeks at the start of last year where she'd thought he'd fallen for the new girl, Eleanor, but she'd been wrong.

So she'd decided to just be a friend to him, if he needed her… and he'd started opening up to her at the strangest moments, and about the strangest things.

For example, she knew that he loved peanut butter and hated coffee; that in his old room at home there was shoe-box under his floorboards that he hadn't been able to go back for; that his favourite colour was, against all outward signs, blue; that he hated that squeaky noise balloons made sometimes; that he and his brother had had a race with giant snails when he'd been six, and got snail goop all over their parents' dining room… he hadn't told her what their reaction had been, but from his expression she'd made an educated guess…

That he wanted kids one day.

She wondered why he'd told her these things at the time, but put it down to his generally open nature. It was only recently, having watched him become so guarded in the play, that she'd realised how little he let on to people these days. It bothered her.

Particularly as he seemed determined to tell _her_ everything.

She'd nearly hit him when he'd asked her to Hogsmeade that afternoon. She'd been so sure he was playing a particularly cruel prank on her (and even now, she was a little uncertain), but he'd stayed close to her for most of the night, and even asked to dance with her later on…

It didn't make any sense.

He was good looking (well, gorgeous, actually), boisterous, loud, brave, and generally considered to be one of those kids who would do well whatever, whereas she…

Whereas she was short, dumpy, quiet, miserable and had had to fight for everything she had. It hadn't been easy, coming to Hogwarts as a muggle-born so shy that it took a whole year for her to work up the courage to even _look_ at her class-mates. If Frank Longbottom hadn't silently challenged her to a chess match at the end of the term, and then refused to accept 'no' for an answer, she wouldn't have come back for second year…

It didn't make any _sense_…

Across the room, Sirius glanced over at her and smiled – that wide, unstoppable grin that made her heart beat faster and louder than she thought it should.

No sense at all… and, she realised, for probably the first time in her life, she didn't mind that.

0o0o0o0

Things were looking up, Frank decided. Alice was looking even more lovely than ever (despite the fact that every time he thought it, he marvelled at its impossibility), Sirius and Remus were friends again and Remus had apparently got his act together and kissed Eleanor. All around the Great Hall people were laughing, smiling, dancing… you could forget, for the moment, that the world was at war.

He watched James and Lily dancing together as if they'd always been together; Peter introducing Claire to his beaming parents; Sirius pulling a startled Dorothy out on to the dance-floor (well, and why not?); Severus and Eleanor poking fun at one another; Remus talking to one of the guests he didn't recognise…

It was difficult to imagine life without them, which came as something of a surprise…

He looked at Alice, chattering animatedly with her parents and his mother. The world that they would be walking out into in a year's time was every day a colder and crueller place, and yet, he could not bring himself to worry. Not here, not now.

Not tonight.

Not with Alice smiling like that.

He fingered the small, square box in the pocket of his dress-robes. He had been carrying it around for weeks now, ever since he'd sneaked away from his mother in Diagon Alley in the summer. He'd been trying to think of an appropriate way of approaching her, an appropriate time.

They _were_ of age now, after all, and less than a year away from 'growing up' and leaving school…

He watched her as she laughed and smiled, knowing with his whole being that his future was with her: by her side, in her arms, wherever she needed him to be. It made him feel humble and powerful and reckless all at the same time, and he smiled as she did (he loved the way she smiled).

Dimly, and although he thought that divination was about as useful as knickers on an avocado, he could see a future together: both of them Aurors, working with the Ministry to keep people safe. A homely cottage somewhere leafy, the smell of Alice's cooking (which, he knew without having sampled it, would be mouth-watering)…

And perhaps, one day, a tiny wizard and witch, chasing one another around the garden.

He grinned at his vision, and left the box in his pocket.

Maybe tomorrow.


	36. Exeunt, Part the Second

Severus was laughing again, along with Eleanor.

Six months ago, had he seen Severus laugh, he would have suspected that he'd been the victim of one too many cheering charms, but it seemed that his quiet classmate had been hiding his sense of humour under thick layers of purposefully constructed fortification.

He was glad that he could laugh now.

It had come as no surprise whatsoever to Algernon to discover that he preferred men… it _had_ come as a surprise that the man he preferred was his often sullen and bizarrely noble class-mate. He'd been more lively for a while (and Algernon now realised that this had a lot to do with Eleanor and Lily and their refusal to let him wallow), and they had been getting on together better than ever; Algernon had been protecting him from the worst of his housemates and Severus had been helping him the those subjects whose finer points escaped him.

And then Radogast Mulciber and Evan Rosier had played their little 'prank' (as they had been referring to it) on Eleanor, and Severus hadn't come back. He'd felt a curious fury when he'd found out what they had done, and had even been moved to apologise to James, whom he had been industriously hexing as their friends had taken their revenge that morning.

He'd put the feeling down to house loyalty until he'd seen Severus in the Hospital Wing, looking so bruised and battered and small. Then he'd known…

And then, in the summer, when his letters had gone unanswered for so long…

He had almost talked himself into paying him an unexpected visit when Severus's change of address reached him. He had found himself pouring out his heart onto the parchment that he sent, every other day, to the French Alps.

He hadn't really expected Severus to feel the same way, but he had… he'd just pulled Algernon to one side, one September night, after an extended drinking session in the Slytherin Common Room, and snogged him.

He hadn't thought Severus had had it in him.

He was rapidly discovering that Severus had a lot more going on behind his curtain of dark hair than everyone thought… and he was enjoying every sordid minute of it.

0o0o0o0

The young man had been watching him for a good ten minutes before he allowed himself to turn and face him.

He had known that he would seek him out eventually; his was a scent that he was unlikely to be able to ignore. He had probably never smelled another werewolf in his life, and his expression suggested as much. He was stood half in shadow a few feet away, watching him carefully, suspiciously; he had made sure that his face was hidden – or would have been, had he been fully human – but he wasn't, and he could see him as clear as day.

He met the boy's eyes, and for a moment they just looked at one another. He beckoned him over.

The boy walked forward, slowly, snaking through the chattering crowd. He was wary, stood before him. Uncertain. A question in his eyes.

"I could tell even before I saw you," said Antoine, gently. "As you will 'ave noticed, it is 'ard to miss."

The young man nodded, but didn't say anything.

"I can smell 'er on you," Antoine remarked, and the tiniest of frowns crossed the boy's face. "And you on 'er."

He regarded him closely for a moment before continuing.

"Do you know 'oo I am, young cub?"

It was the boy's turn to watch him closely, and he appeared to be thinking hard before he answered.

"I… I believe I have read your book, sir."

Antoine smiled.

"I believe you 'ave… what did you think of it?"

"It was… useful," the boy said, and this time there was a ghost of a smile. "I must have read it a hundred times… I never thought I'd have the chance to say – thank you, for writing it."

"You are very welcome, young man," he chuckled. "I 'ave to say, I did wonder 'oo it was for, when she asked me…"

Remus gave a small smile.

"I think she noticed that I had more or less stolen my copy from the library and didn't approve," he said. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"Antoine Lévesque," said the older werewolf, shaking his hand. "You were good – in the play."

"Thanks."

"It is unusual for… one of us… to be the centre of attention for a good reason."

"I didn't have much choice," Remus chuckled.

"I suspected as much – Eleanor would not 'ave put 'erself forward for the part – 'owever much she loves the play."

"She was brilliant, though," said Remus, and this time he really smiled.

"Oui," Antoine agreed. "I am glad that she 'as you… and that you 'ave 'er."

"Sir?"

"Antoine, please," he said, waving his automatic submission away. "It is a difficult path to walk, alone."

Remus nodded, frowning at the urge to lower his head at the melodious timbre of Antoine's voice.

"It is a wolf thing," said Antoine, in an undertone. "Your wolf 'as decided that my wolf is the alpha… don't worry about it, but don't let 'im control you."

Remus appeared to struggle with himself for a few moments.

"I have… so many questions," he said, purposefully drawing himself upright.

Antoine chuckled.

"You, cub, are going to be alright."

0o0o0o0

Happy and exhausted, she excused herself from her enthusiastic relatives and Frank's ferocious mother, and went to find her boyfriend. Knowing Frank, he'd be happily philosophising with his house-mates, or talking chess strategy with other club members.

Having completed one circuit of the Great Hall and still unable to find him, Alice bit her lip, concerned. It was odd for him to be so completely absent… perhaps he had absconded to the bathroom.

It was silly to worry, really.

And yet…

Unbidden, images of the ruined houses and broken bodies from the pages of the Daily Prophet sprung to mind… The stories that they all read, quietly, at breakfast, and pretended that they weren't worried about, came back to her. They were awful, certainly, but not something that would ever happen to them, they would reason, and move on to the sports section or the arts section…

It was one of the reasons that she wanted to be an Auror so badly, to stop things like that filling the newspapers…

But it couldn't happen here, she assured herself, drawing her shawl around her; it was strange, she hadn't realised that the Great Hall had become so cold…

He'd be back any second, and she'd feel so silly…

She backed against a pillar, feeling the need for solidity at her back, as if the world might shift beyond her grasp at any moment, and looked around carefully.

The people around her seemed suddenly over-bright, needlessly loud…

Feeling every inch the fearful wife, she bit her lip, ready to go out and look for him – but… yes! There he was, weaving determinedly through the crowd towards her.

All the warmth and joy and laughter in the room seemed to come back to her in a moment, and she hurried forward to kiss him on the cheek, feeling completely ridiculous.

"I was looking for you," she said, fighting to keep the relief from her voice.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said, waving a plate piled high with buffet food.

It smelled fantastic, and she took some of the proffered food, gratefully. She hadn't realised how hungry she was.

He grinned at her and all the fears of a few minutes previously evaporated. Of course he had come back.

He always would.

0o0o0o0

Having fulfilled her obligations as guardian and been relentlessly cheery at her young charge, Estelle had positioned herself beside the long drinks table, selected a wine that was (despite no longer being in France) actually not that bad, and set her sights on the doors to the Entrance Hall. When Violetta emerged (and, knowing her, wild horses would not stop her), she would need to know that she was supported out here; Estelle would be easy to spot by the drinks table, and Violetta would be able to find her or not, whatever she felt was most appropriate.

She had seen dear Antoine draw Eleanor's young man off to one side; she was glad that he had someone to take him under their wing. She knew from experience that life as a werewolf could be trying, and having someone to talk to about all of that sort of thing would be good for him.

And for his relationship with Eleanor.

She supposed that her unflinching acceptance of her ward falling in love with what was, essentially, a dark creature, would be considered unusual by most parents and guardians. But they hadn't met him.

He was pleasant, quiet, polite – and quite obviously cared for Eleanor a great deal. She had been certain that he was the one that had stolen her little girl's heart when they had met, very briefly, in the summer, though Henrì had not believed her…

There was something in the way that he walked that marked him out as a wolf, and Eleanor must have known what she was getting herself into – she had spent enough time loitering around Antoine's barn when she was young.

No, whatever happened now, Eleanor would be well away from it – her mother would see to that; and well looked after – her young man would see to that.

Sadly, she shook her head. She didn't really need them any more.

0o0o0o0

She came.

She actually _came_.

Ok, so she looks like she hates it, and she's not been particularly friendly, but at least she's here – and actually speaking to people!

She even said 'hello' to James, and she _hates_ him!

He came over, being his usual charming self – I think he was trying to rescue me – and whirled me away across the dance-floor. Not that I'm complaining. But I've been dancing with him for a while now, and I should go back and see how she's doing…

Even mum and dad have left her now, and she keeps shooting daggers at Severus. Oh dear.

"Petunia, do you want to get a drink, or something?"

"Will it have anything funny in it?" she asked, dubiously.

"No," said Lily, and then hesitated. "Well… it depends on how busy Sirius has been…" she looked around, and saw him dancing with Dorothy Cottingley. "Good grief…"

"What?"

"Nothing, just not a couple I'd have expected to happen…"

"Oh…"

"I think it would probably be a good idea to avoid the punch… or anything that's a funny colour."

She rummaged through the bottles for an unopened one.

"Ok… looks like damson wine, pumpkin cider or gillywater…" she wrinkled up her nose. "Well, gillywater's nasty… and the cider is probably highly alcoholic…"

"But we're underage," Petunia hissed – though Lily was sure that now there was note of excitement in her voice.

"Not here – it's seventeen for us… here," she handed her sister a goblet of damson wine. She sniffed it, experimentally. "It's pretty good," Lily encouraged. "And a lot easier to get used to than pumpkin."

To her surprise, Petunia sipped the wine.

"It's… odd," she said, wrinkling her nose up and taking another sip. "But not unpleasant."

Lily grinned, and was surprised that Petunia smiled back.

"How are you and Vernon?" she asked, and immediately wished that she hadn't. Petunia looked like she'd just taken a bite from a lemon.

"He… well, we fell out," said Petunia, tartly. "He was very rude about mum."

"Oh… I'm sorry…"

"No you're not," said Petunia. "You hate him."

"Well, yes," said Lily. "But I like you, and you like him, and I like to see you happy."

"Oh…"

"Is that why you came?" asked Lily, quietly.

"Yes," Petunia admitted. "I thought it would be the thing that would annoy him the most…" she looked at her sister's face. "But now that I'm here… I'm glad I did."

"Really?" asked Lily, hope rising in her heart.

"Really," said Petunia, with a small smile. "This place is extraordinary… and not nearly as… well, as abnormal as I thought it would be."

"Er, thanks."

Petunia's smile grew a little.

"And one of the young men asked me out," she said.

"Really?" Lily asked, surprised and suddenly excited. "Who?"

"That cute one, from the watch," Petunia whispered, eyes bright. "The one who was sort of in charge."

"Crispin?"

"Yes, I think so."

"And you said?"

"I said I'd think about it… I wasn't sure…" she bit her lip. "I mean, I've only just broken up with Vernon, and I was thinking that that was more sort of temporary…"

"Until Crispin asked you to dance?"

"Until Crispin asked me to dance," she nodded, and giggled. "I didn't think anyone would."

"Why?" Lily asked, surprised. "You look really pretty."

"Do you think so?" Petunia asked, suddenly nervous; she patted her dark hair uncertainly. "Everyone else looks so… well, like you… like some fairytale princess."

Lily blushed, and Petunia actually smiled.

"You look beautiful," Lily assured her, a little pink. "Silver really suits, you – you look like you're one of those wonderful movie stars in those black and white films mum loves watching."

"Really?"

"Really."

It was Petunia's turn to blush, and she took a longer sip of her wine, embarrassed.

"So, what's he like?" she asked, not meeting her sister's eyes.

"He's really nice," said Lily. "He's a Ravenclaw, too, which means that he's very smart – and very sweet, according to Frank."

"Frank?"

"Leonato."

"Oh…" Petunia gave a half-smile. "Thank you…"

"You're welcome…" Lily took her hand, as gently as she dared. "I've missed you, Tuney."

"I've missed you too…" she looked at her goblet. "You're like this wine, Lily…"

Lily frowned at her and Petunia smiled.

"Odd, but not unpleasant."

0o0o0o0

It had been a very long time indeed since she had seen Violetta so deeply upset and so gloriously triumphant simultaneously. She had always been much more reserved than her glamorous friend, which was part of the reason for her chosen profession, but whenever Violetta needed her she had been there, and visa versa.

She well remembered the evening when she had received that first, terrified, letter, telling her friend that she was pregnant – and that it wasn't the Minister's child, and that she didn't know what to do.

She also remembered the night when she'd Apparated across England and France to help her friend give birth; it was not an experience that she would easily forget – the birth had not been an easy one, and there had been some long, terrible moments when she was afraid that she would lose one, or even both of them.

Seeing them both peacefully sleeping together in the morning had more than made up for the journey, and she had slept in Violetta's private flats for nearly three days, completely exhausted.

It had been quite a shock to hear that young Eleanor would be joining the school, but no shock at all to see how much she looked like her old friend. She had always thought that being the matron to the school had made up for her own lack of children, but with Eleanor she felt particularly proprietorial.

It had nearly killed her to see what those brutes had done to her.

It had nearly killed them, too.

She glanced over at her, now a beautiful young woman in her own right, laughing along with Black and Cottingley.

They just grew up so damned fast.

0o0o0o0

He couldn't remember having enjoyed a social event this much in his life.

He was usually the first to leave any party, even if it was taking place in his dormitory, and the one most likely to be found quietly reading in the library when the rest of his peers were off having fun and being sick – an association he had never been able to comprehend.

But this was… well, _fun_.

People were laughing along with him, enjoying his company, and he was _enjoying_ himself. Even his mother looked like she was having fun, though to be fair she had occasionally told him that her time at Hogwarts had been the happiest she'd ever been. Being back here seemed to be good for her.

It had been good for him too, to see her so relaxed, so contentedly herself. After years of living with his father breathing down their necks he'd rarely seen her this peaceful. It made a very nice change.

He had even resisted the urge to go over and annoy Petunia Evans, largely because she looked unhappy and out of place, and while he didn't like the girl one bit, he wasn't going to make it worse. Quite apart from the fact that Lily would kill him.

She appeared to be dancing with Crispin Spinnet, now, and looked excited and content… vaguely, he wondered whether someone had slipped her a dodgy potion, and looked around for her sister in order to mention this possibility, but Lily was stood on the edge of the Hall, watching Petunia dance with an elated smile on her face. Apparently, Petunia could do 'happy'. Who knew?

He watched Crispin lead her past him, towards the food, and Petunia was so giddily excited that she completely forgot to glare at him, instead giving him a startled smile. Severus smiled back, more out of habit than anything else (who'd have thought that he could develop a habit like smiling, even?), and reflected that she actually did look kind of attractive in the strange silver strappy gown she was wearing. Must be a muggle style…

He looked about the Great Hall. Members of his strange, voluntary and entirely dysfunctional family were cavorting about the place, dancing, or eating, or drinking, or laughing, or some bizarre and impractical combination of several of them… He felt a strange warm sensation in his chest that he'd experience once at the Chalet… he _belonged_ here, it said…

How strange his life had become…

And then there was Algernon, whom he still couldn't quite believe had kissed him back. In fact, he was still having a hard time believing that he'd kissed him in the first place… apparently _that_ much Firewhiskey in one go wasn't necessarily a good idea.

He blushed faintly, allowing his hair to hide his face.

Although, he had to admit it had its perks… perhaps he and Algernon should do some experimenting…

0o0o0o0

He was such a fool.

Really, had he expected this to work?

He had looked shocked and outraged when Minister Appleby and Professor Dumbledore had made it blatantly obvious that they weren't on his side, storming out of the School like a petulant child.

She had watched him go, unimpressed.

Between his threats and accusations, she had become more determined than ever to survive this debacle, and had been playing the distressed-but-it-would-be-bad-manners-to-show-it-lady for the better part of an hour. Not that it required much acting.

She had been really quite worried that he might go straight out and seize her Eleanor, but Professor McGonagall assured her that if he had tried, the portraits would have told them by now, interminable gossips as they were.

She had expected the Gentleman to have slightly more patience and decorum, but apparently the satisfaction of having caught her red-handed, as it were, seemed to have temporarily overwhelmed his pomposity. He had gone from sneering triumph to righteous fury, before cascading to childish rage in the face of an entire lack of sympathy from his chosen audience. He had actually begun attacking them, their positions and their reputations, but he had reckoned against just how stubborn the British could be.

If he had handled the situation slightly better, Violetta could imagine that it would have gone better for him: he could have cast aspersions on her character from behind the mask of a grieving and cuckolded husband… But he had let his vicious streak get the better of him…

And now the people that could most hurt his reputation – being the people who now had pastoral care of her daughter – would do their best to protect her.

Minister Appleby had been very kind indeed, his sense of outrage at Huon's behaviour greater than that at extra-marital affairs. After all, he _had_ met the man, and it wasn't difficult to imagine how one might be tempted by _anyone_ else who came along. Violetta had blinked back tears (mostly of relief) and told them how her one night of indiscretion had led to Eleanor's birth (although, of course, she had remained faithful ever since), and therefore her greatest joy in life. She told them how she had always tried to keep Eleanor safe and away from the vagaries of political and society life.

Both Dumbledore and Appleby had kindly offered her a place to stay in until she could get things sorted out, in Hogwarts and London, respectively. She agreed to both of them, saying that she would like to spend a couple of days with her daughter before she began the divorce proceedings – which would be more easily managed from London.

She nodded to Estelle, who appeared to be maintaining a watch by the drinks table and glanced over at her daughter, who was laughing with some of her friends. She couldn't help the small smile that played upon her lips. It would be good to spend a day in her daughter's company – and as themselves, for a change. But after that – she did not intend to interfere in Eleanor's school commitments, after all – she would beg an audience with the Headmaster…

There were things that she could tell him about her soon-to-be-ex-husband's court… about the dark cloaked strangers with the skull masks, for example… about how her husband was welcoming them with open arms… about the hushed conversation that she had overheard, about the transfer of a particular locket from Huon's vaults into their possession… about the whispers of shattered souls between Huon and the Dark Lord…

Her husband had presumed much, over the years, and the continued support of a public who could see the disadvantages of a madman who filed his teeth every month and welcomed the missives of the Dark Lord almost fervently were prime examples…

Huon had accrued many ancient texts on the Dark Arts over the years, and Violetta had, of late, taken to reading them through to see what he was up to…

Yes, she suspected that Dumbledore would be very interested in the book with the chapter entitled 'Horcruxes'…

0o0o0o0

He recaptured Eleanor's hand while she watched the swirling dancers, and she smiled up at him.

"Alright?" she asked, concerned at his earlier departure.

"Alright," he nodded. "I just met your housekeeper's nephew…"

"Antoine?" she gasped. "He's here?"

"Yes, he said he'd come over and see you in a bit… said something about embarrassing his aunt…"

Eleanor laughed.

"He's probably making her dance," she said, peering into the crowd. "Yes – there they are!"

They watched Antoine deftly twirling his rather pink-cheeked aunt; Henrì was a few feet away from them, shaking with laughter. Remus grinned as he bowed to Eileen Snape and led her on to the dance-floor, as Severus looked on, astonished.

"That's why you hurried off then?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes…" he scratched his neck distractedly. "I've never really smelled another… one of me, before. It was unsettling." Eleanor's fingers tightened around his momentarily, and he continued. "He seems to want to take me under his wing to some extent."

"Good," she said, firmly. "I'm glad. There's so much about…" she lowered her voice. "… your condition that I just can't help with. I mean, you know I'll always be there for you, but…"

"But this way I have someone I can put the weirder questions to," he finished, guessing her direction.

"Exactly," she smiled at him, and he couldn't resist kissing her on her slightly rosy cheek.

"It has other benefits too," he said. "Antoine has a job – he said he'd help me look for work that doesn't make my condition obvious."

"Like something that you can do from home, maybe?"

"Yes, freelance writing, research, that sort of thing… and he has a family."

Eleanor beamed.

"Did he show you the photographs?"

"Yes," Remus chuckled. "He seems to be a very proud father."

"So he should be," said Eleanor. "Even if they are a veritable horde of pink-cheeked little monsters," she continued, smiling at the memory. "Their favourite game, as far as I could tell from the last time I saw them, was 'climb-all-over-tatie-Ellie-and-get-her-to-chase-us'."

Remus grinned.

"You loved it, didn't you?" he teased.

"Oh, absolutely," she smiled, and Remus caught his breath. Something about the light in the Great Hall tonight amplified people's beauty… Eleanor fairly took his breath away. "They have me wrapped around their tiny pudgy fingers," she went on. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"The best part of it is, I know that this won't – that I can't – that any children… well that they wouldn't inherit this…"

Eleanor kissed him gently on the cheek.

"They would have the best of you," she said, softly.

"Eleanor," Remus began, lifting her knuckles to his lips; the warm torchlight danced on the bracelet on her wrist. "Do you ever think about having children?"

To his surprise, she blushed a little, but he smile brightened, ever so slightly.

"Only recently…"

Remus beamed, as visions of their own brood of pink-cheeked little monsters swam through his mind.

Everything was going to be just fine.

0o0o0o0

It had been rather a good evening, he felt, until the odious Minister Buchardt had decided to commit social and political suicide. Even then, watching Madame Buchardt masterfully steer herself through the dilemma had been most entertaining, as had watching his friend Everard bluster about trying to help. He really wasn't that bad, Albus mused, for a politician.

He and Poppy had left Minerva with the stunned Minister, since they were old friends, and had emerged into the Gala to see everybody enjoying themselves in a reasonably raucous fashion.

He had danced with Poppy, and then with Pomona, and was contentedly watching Filius attempt to chat her up. The diminutive Charms Professor wasn't doing too badly, and Albus was looking forward to the materialisation of the usual Hogwarts' staff betting pool, which took in everything from Quidditch results, to student and staff romances, to the first (or best) potentially deadly accident of the year…

Across the Great Hall, he saw Poppy talking quietly with Madame Buchardt. It hadn't really surprised him that they were old friends, particularly as he knew more of his apparently prim and quiet matron's history than many of his colleagues (except possibly Pomona, since the two of them had become firm friends). He would have to ask her about it… he would invite her up for an innocent cup of tea in the morning (or maybe the afternoon, since the mead was so delightful this year).

The opportunity to speak with Madame Buchardt during her stay would also have to be arranged, he mused, especially if the rumours of her husband's loyalties were true… she might have overheard something… he would have to approach the subject very carefully, he thought.

Or, then again, perhaps not… the lady in question had looked, purposefully, in his direction and nodded; he returned the gesture. Giving it some consideration, Madame Buchardt would probably be the one to approach him… from what he had seen of her, she had a good handle on most situations… and he trusted Poppy's judgement. If she trusted her, then so would he… to an extent, at least.

He sighed.

It really was such a shame that he should have to turn his thoughts to darker things during such a vibrant and joyful event as the Autumn Gala, but it was inevitable. Especially when a young and foolish boy with outdated ideals seemed determined to build a world of darkness and cruelty around him…

He frowned, deeply. Sometimes it seemed as though there was no hope for the future…

A roar of laughter pulled him from his miserable musings; he got to his feet.

In the middle of the crowd, and rapidly spreading outwards, was an epidemic of people who were producing vast quantities of bubbles, out of their mouths, ears and noses.

Immediately, and somewhat out of habit, he glanced towards James Potter and Sirius Black, but the boys were giving each other bewildered looks… someone else then… interesting. It had to be a potion, really… in the punch, perhaps. He eyed his goblet with mild suspicion.

He peered about the Hall… there – by the fireplace… two young students were huddled together, trying not to look smug…

Young Corin and Olivia Haversham, if he wasn't mistaken… he had seen the boy moping around earlier in the evening, and it seemed that his sister had decided to cheer him up. Clearly, a pair to watch.

He looked about at the bubbling crowd. No one seemed to mind the bubbles, particularly, and many people were howling with laughter, spewing great torrents of coloured bubbles across the room.

He cleared his throat, managing, with that tiny sound, to quiet the entire room.

Making sure that everyone was paying attention, he lifted his own goblet to his lips and took a deep draught, before blowing a great stream of violet-coloured bubbles across the room. That concluded, he sat down as staff, students and parents alike erupted into gales of laughter.

He winked at the two children by the fireplace, and they both jumped in shock; he chuckled to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Minerva giving him a tolerantly withering look, but she couldn't deflect his good humour.

Happily, he reflected that even in the darkest of times, there would still be something to put a smile on a doddering old fool's face, and was glad of it.


	37. Encore

Marie loved the summer.

Although Autumn was her favourite season, with its vibrant and changing colours, and the excuse to wear her bright blue wellies and splash about in the puddles, and bonfire night, and the smell of frost in the mornings (and, of course, her birthday, which really matters when you're six), the three hottest weeks of the year were her absolute favourite, because that was when her cousins came.

They weren't _really_ her cousins – her mama and papa had no brothers and sisters – but they might as well have been. She couldn't remember a time when they hadn't all come to visit, and she and her brother and sister would wake up really early in the morning, and sneak out of the house and down to the gate to wait for them. Papa always made sure that there was a blanket and a basket full of delicious breakfast things waiting by the gate. Marie could never figure out how he did it – the basket was never wet with the dew, and she was certain that she and her siblings had never woken him and Maman…

She thought, perhaps, that she'd seen him at the kitchen window last year, chuckling at them, but he'd wandered out with Maman, later on, calling their names and still wearing his pyjamas, so she must have been wrong.

This year, her brother Thèo was sat on top of the wall, looking out along the dusty, winding track that led to the Village below. A couple of years older than Marie, he never lost the opportunity to scramble up the side of something, and (generally) fall off it again. Much to the consternation and amusement of his parents.

He was idly chewing a straw and swinging his legs.

Most of the year, she found him vaguely annoying, in an amicable kind of way, but as they waited for their friends to arrive, Marie felt an inordinate rush of warmth for her elder brother. She fondly remembered the first time he had brought her down to the gate… she had only just learned to walk properly, and she'd toddled along behind him until they'd reached the gate, when she had fully comprehended, in that extraordinary one-year-old way, exactly how dark it was outside, and he had held her hand in the darkness.

They had both fallen asleep that year, and had woken up to find their parents sat on a picnic blanket next to them, watching the sun come up over the mountains. Her Maman had brushed her fingers through Thèo's brown hair, and sung under her breath as the little boy slept in her lap, and Marie had curled up in her Papa's arms, safe and content.

Thèo had told her once that the older you got, the more you forgot about when you were tiny… she hoped that she never, _ever_ forgot that morning.

Her little sister, Avril, was sat in the grass next to her, making chains of buttercups and daisies with her chubby, four-year-old fingers; she looked up at her sister and smiled happily. Marie ruffled her sister's dark hair.

She had brought a book out with her – one that her Maman liked to read to her, about a beautiful peasant girl and a Prince who has been turned into a beast – but she was too restless to settle to it.

The morning sun had been slowly bumbling across the sky for quite some time when their parents came out to join them. This year they didn't seem at all surprised that their offspring had migrated to the very edge of their land, and they sat down with them without comment, quietly unpacking the basket and handing out croissants, and breads, and fruits, and meats.

After they had eaten, and their parents had repacked the basket and tucked it under the wall, Maman took out her sewing and Papa read to them as Avril dozed in his arms.

At about half-past ten, the first signs of chaos began to trickle up the mountain track. As one person, the five members of the young family sat up straighter and craned forwards: along the track, just above the dip in the road, was a small cloud of dust.

It hurtled along the track towards them, slowing slightly as it hit the incline ahead of them and speeding up again as the path flattened out ahead.

Thèo jumped down from his perch and opened the gate; together, they watched as the cloud resolved itself into two dusty, black haired boys, who changed course slightly in order to leap on Thèo in a kind of enthusiastic, childish greeting. The three of them rolled, happily, in the dust, reminding Marie strongly of a litter of excited puppies.

Her Maman put away her sewing, and Papa secreted his book about his person in that mysterious way of his. With a flick of her wand, Maman sent the blanket and the basket whizzing across the meadow behind them to the Chalet.

Out along the road, figures, travelling much more slowly, had materialised; Avril, suddenly shy, clung to her sister's skirts.

The ebullient ball of limbs in front of them fell apart abruptly, its constituent parts laughing happily.

"Hello boys," said Papa, chuckling.

"Hullo Uncle Moony," the two boys chorused, grinning. "Hullo Auntie Eleanor!"

"You two are enthusiastic this morning," Maman observed, with amusement. "I fear you may have abandoned your parents.

The twin boys gave nearly identical barking laughs, before shrugging.

"They'll catch up," said Magnus. "Hullo Marie," he continued, and beamed at the tiny face peeking out from behind her. "Hullo Avril."

"Not speaking to us, Avril?" his brother smiled, more gently. "We've missed you."

Avril hid herself completely behind Marie again, but this time she could tell that her sister was smiling.

The children grinned at one another.

A bark of laughter rang out along the track, and Uncle Sirius came into view, a young girl with glossy blond hair perched on his shoulders; Aunty Dorothy wasn't too far behind, chuckling at her husband and sons.

Where Magnus and Aramis looked a lot like their father (though each had different parts of their mother), Rachel was almost the spitting image of Aunty Dorothy: long, silvery hair, a reasonably quiet disposition and a predilection for being a little on the short side. If it weren't for her flashing silver eyes, you would almost think that she was some kind of miniature copy of her mother.

As Uncle Sirius lifted her off her shoulders and plonked her unceremoniously on the floor, it was Marie's turn to run forwards and hug her friend. Their parents were hugging too, and taking the opportunity to hug, fuss over and muss the hair of the various children.

Uncle Sirius took Maman by the waist and span her around in the air, as she shrieked and laughed, trying to dislodge herself; Papa and Aunty Dorothy were laughing indulgently as Magnus and Thèo chased a giggling Avril around them in the grass.

Aramis, though equally enthusiastic, was often quieter than his brother and had hung back slightly.

"Good year?" he asked.

"Not bad," said Marie, watching as her sister was once again caught, tickled and released. "Thèo taught me to climb the trees in the orchard and I'm better at it than him."

Aramis laughed and said something quiet that sounded a lot like 'It wouldn't be hard.'

"I lost another tooth…" Marie continued, marking off important events on her fingers, one by one. "I got new wellies, and Avril starts school next month. You?"

"Cool," grinned Aramis. "Me and Magnus got in trouble for accidentally making the school kitchens explode, I got the highest score in the end of year test," he listed, swelling up with pride. "We got to go to see a Quidditch match with Dad and Uncle James and Gwen was sick all over Uncle James, which was dead funny… oh, and I finished that book I was telling you about. Do you want to borrow it?"

"Maybe, yeah," she smiled.

Maman, having removed herself from Uncle Sirius, called over to fetch them into the Chalet to help make up beds and to have cups of tea.

Uncle Sirius grabbed Marie and Avril around their waists and ran down the hill to the Chalet, the two girls shrieking and laughing with glee, their unofficial cousins pelting after them, happily.

0o0o0o0

They'd finished setting out make-shift beds and hammocks in Avril, Thèo and Marie's rooms, and had just sat down to have some cold raspberry lemonade and honey biscuits when the fireplace lit itself.

Avril, now quite jumpy with all the excitement, squealed and went to hide behind her mother, who swooped down and plucked her up, mid-stride. She wriggled in her mother's arms, giggling.

The flames shot higher and higher until they reached the very top of the fireplace; Papa, who had Rachel on his lap, caught Magnus (who was still running around like a maniac) by the back of his shirt, while Aunty Dorothy and Uncle Sirius wafted children to the other side of the table.

Marie peered over the top of it, Magnus and her brother on either side of her.

Abruptly, the flames changed temperature a lurid emerald green, and a small cheer went up around the Chalet kitchen.

A tiny, doll-sized figure had appeared in the flames, and was spinning at an inordinate speed; they watched as it rapidly got bigger and bigger, until it was human-sized.

Aunty Alice stepped daintily out of the fireplace and shook the soot out of her hair.

"Morning!" she said cheerily, and stepped out of the way to let a second doll-sized figure to materialise.

A brown haired, round-faced boy of about five years old fell out of the fireplace and picked himself up, laughing.

"That was _brilliant_!" cried Neville, moving to stand with his mum. "Did you see, Marie? I got to do it all on my own this year!"

The wailing bundle in Aunty Alice's arms seemed to disagree with Neville's sentiments, and the young boy peered into the folds of his mother's cloak; a head of bright blond curls emerged, crying noisily.

"It's ok, Oliver," he said, reaching up to catch his brother's hand. "All done now."

Behind them, Uncle Frank was climbing out of the fireplace, pulling a little tow-headed boy along behind him. Callum, who was three, and therefore amazed by everything, was staring around in open-mouthed wonder.

"Eville!" he shouted, excitedly. "Everythin' wen' green!"

He toddled over to his brother, who grinned at him.

"Yep, green," he agreed.

"I like green!" Callum proclaimed, happily.

Baby Oliver, who appeared to be calming down a bit, watched his brothers carefully, as though at any moment one of them might explode, or turn purple, or something equally exciting – and, in his mind, perfectly likely.

Papa and Uncle Frank shook hands, warmly, dislodging Rachel, who gave Neville and Callum a hug; Marie joined them, as her mother and Aunty Alice hugged, awkwardly, Oliver balanced between them.

"It's so good to see you!" Aunty Alice was saying.

"And you!" cried Maman. "I've missed the general air of chaos – mind you, Dotty and Sirius got here earlier, so…"

"I heard that," called Sirius, as he and his sons attacked Uncle Frank.

"So it's been much the same," Maman continued, without missing a beat. "And how are you, Ollie?" she asked, and Oliver did his best to burrow back inside his mother's cloak.

They laughed.

"And how are you?" Aunty Dorothy was asking Callum, scooping the boy up into her lap. "Ah, sticky as ever, I see…"

Thèo had detached himself from the Black twins to give Neville a hug, and passed Avril on the other side of the table, who was scurrying over with the intention of joining Callum on Aunty Dotty's lap.

It had all got rather loud, and after a few minutes they were herded outside by the adults, who settled on the veranda to watch the ensuing chaos.

Marie and Rachel immediately ran off with Marie's skipping rope, and took it in turns. The little ones were plonked down in the grass, where they crawled about merrily, Oliver having cheered up considerably now that he was certain that the world wasn't about to randomly start spinning again. Around them, the boys chased each other, laughing and shouting; it was only a matter of time before they started to climb the trees in the nearby orchard, Marie knew, and it was highly likely that Neville (who was renowned for being able to trip over his own feet) would fall out of them. Marie and Rachel fully intended to watch, and provided 'encouragement'. Perhaps the boys would help to pull them up into the branches, too, later on, and they could all have a go at adding to their collection of bruises.

Papa, who was leaning on the railing with Uncle Sirius and enjoying the morning sunshine, conjured a stream of coloured bubbles to keep Avril, Callum and Oliver occupied; the three of them whooped and shouted excitedly, toddling after the bubbles as best they could (well, Oliver crawled, but very quickly) and making them burst noisily, with their pudgy hands.

0o0o0o0

Neville had fallen out of the trees for the fifth time (and he was _still_ grinning enthusiastically) when two very loud cracks made everyone jump. Oliver, who still hadn't quite recovered from the morning's ordeal, began to cry again, and his dad picked him up in a practised motion, jigging him up and down until his tears were really more like laughter.

There was the sound of running, and two more children came pelting around the side of the Chalet.

"Kai!" shouted the Black twins, and they and Theo pounced on the round, dark-haired boy, who was quickly engulfed in a pile of laughing boys. Neville and the girls hung back, primarily to avoid being kicked, but also because Kai's older sister, Phoebe, had skidded to a dusty halt in front of them, beaming.

As one, they mobbed her.

Phoebe was as willowy as her brother was round, and while he had his father's eyes and mother's dark hair, she had been blessed with long, honey coloured hair from Uncle Peter and Aunty Claire's bright blue eyes; both children had a liberal dusting of freckles, and their parents' sense of the ridiculous – which came in handy, Marie thought, when dealing with the extended family.

Their parents followed them around the corner at a much more leisurely pace, and waded through the piles of excited children to greet their old friends (though no less enthusiastically). Mass hugging and shaking of hands concluded, they shrugged off their cloaks and cuddled the smaller children, their elder siblings still busy happily rolling about.

Marie, who liked Aunty Claire a lot because she'd always agree to sing to them, watched as Avril shyly presented her with a daisy chain. Her little sister was promptly swept up into a tight hug.

Up on the veranda, she could hear Uncle Sirius talking to Aunty Alice about his work in the Department of Mysteries; both Aunty Alice and Uncle Frank were Aurors, so they were often interested if Uncle Sirius found anything untoward 'knocking about the genteel English countryside', as he put it. Uncle James was an Auror too, and sometimes the four of them would tell the kids stories of their adventures; Thèo and the twins thought it sounded like excellent fun, but Marie (and, she suspected, Rachel) wasn't so sure. It sounded like a lot of running around after people who didn't particularly want to be chased, and Marie could think of several reasons why that might be a Bad Plan. It didn't stop her sitting, enthralled, listening to their stories, though.

Aunty Claire worked at the British Ministry of Magic too, but in a different department from the others, something to do with protecting and talking to Muggles. Despite this, she seemed to end up working with one or two of them quite frequently, and her stories tended to centre around nose-biting teacups and her friend Arthur, who she occasionally accompanied on raids to find magical contraband.

These stories tended to be more comedic than nail-biting, but the general consensus was that this made them no less entertaining.

Uncle Peter, who was looking on indulgently as his children were passed around the adults for inspection and affection, had a much less exciting job, but Marie could see the appeal. Like his wife and children, he loved music, and owned a pretty little shop in Diagon Alley that sold magical instruments like singing harps and ceremonial drums; since Aunty Claire had muggle parents, the shop also carried a great many mundane instruments, and had become very popular of late. They sold sheet music, too, and tuned instruments. Marie fondly remembered an afternoon when they had been visiting the Pettigrews at their cottage and Uncle Peter had held her on his lap as he tuned a particularly temperamental piano. She had been fascinated by the way the keys and hammers moved, and he had had to snatch her tiny fingers away from the dancing strings more than once.

Marie looked up at her parents, who looked delighted to be surrounded by their friends and a horde of small, enthusiastic children.

She was glad that they hadn't got 'proper jobs' like the other parents, since it meant that she and Thèo and Avril saw a lot of them, and they were always ready to drop everything and play, or read, or cuddle with them. Papa – Maman had explained, when she was quite small – had a condition called ly-can-thro-pee (she had to spell it out inside her head in order to remember it properly), that they weren't allowed to talk about with anyone else. Marie didn't really understand it, but she knew that every so often her Papa would get cross more easily and go off on his own for a while (presumably so he wouldn't shout at them all the time), and that it had something to do with the old barn that they weren't allowed to go near.

It didn't matter to Marie, who loved her kind Papa very much, but she did worry when he came back looking so pale and tired. When that happened, she and her siblings would curl up on his bed with him so that he would feel better.

Anyway, this ly-can-thro-pee meant that he couldn't have a 'proper job', so he wrote books of information for schools with Aunty Lily; barely a day went by at the Chalet without seeing Aunty Lily's large barn owl flying in through the kitchen. They were working on a book of charms at the moment, and Marie and Thèo and Avril loved to sit and watch him practising each spell; sometimes he would read out the instructions for each part of it to them, so that they could tell him if they understood it, which they generally did.

When he wasn't writing, he helped Maman run the bed and breakfast business that they had built up around the Chalet. After they had left school, Marie's grandmother (who was very wealthy) had helped them to build a small complex of cottages around their land, and they hired them out to witches and wizards who wanted a holiday. They were open every day of the year except for five weeks: the week around Christmas (which they spent with Maman's mother), the week around Easter (which they spent with Papa's parents), and these three weeks in the summer.

Marie had overheard a neighbour remark that it was foolish to close for the three busiest holiday weeks of the year, but Maman had laughed, and said that you couldn't argue with tradition.

Family, she had told Marie on the way home from the village, was much more important than what your neighbours thought.

0o0o0o0

The day was beginning to get hotter now, as it got closer to lunchtime, and the children were firmly herded into the kitchen, ostensibly to help get everything ready for lunch, but mostly to keep them out of the scorching sun.

They were almost immediately distracted, however, when Phoebe looked out of the window and squealed, pointing at the sky. Everyone crowded around the door and windows to get a better look (well, except for Oliver, who was much more interested in drawing imaginary patterns on the floor).

There was a large, flying, shape in the distance; it was far too big to be an owl, and in any case was rather lopsided.

They watched as the whatever-it-was got closer and closer, eventually resolving itself to two wizards and a witch flying in formation, their travelling clothes flapping in the wind.

They set down just beyond the orchard with a reasonable amount of grace, considering that one of them was carrying a very small girl, who upon hitting the ground, immediately (and quite unsteadily) toddled towards the Chalet at high speed. They let her go, dismounting and striding after her.

When she was little, Marie had been a little but wary of Uncle Severus, because he was very quiet, and – she felt – more than a little uncertain about _her_. He had warmed up as they had grown older, however, largely because Maman had a habit of dropping children on him and then running off, so that he had no option but to interact with them. Last year, he and Uncle Algie (who had always being much friendlier) had adopted two young girls from St Mungo's Children's Home, for which they had a special fondness.

Little Holly, who was still toddling at full tilt towards them, had been left on the steps of the hospital – and no one who met her could ever understand why – dangerously undernourished and covered in bruises. As Severus and Algernon ran an exclusive Potion shop and Apothecary, they regularly visited the hospital to deliver much needed healing tinctures, and to advise the healers on treatments. Algernon had been waiting to speak to one of the healers – an old school friend – when the tiny girl's cries had drawn him out of the building and down to the ragged blanket that she had been left in. He had picked her up, carried her into the building, and fallen completely in love with her.

He'd announced to Severus that they were expecting that very night. To say that his partner had been unimpressed would be an understatement.

Until, that is, he met Eve.

Eve had admitted herself to the hospital four days later – at about the time when Algernon was forcing Severus to be nice to Holly – with severe burns. She had spotted Holly, who had squealed excitedly to see her sister again, and climbed off her gurney to cuddle her – to the consternation of her healers. She had glowered at both Algernon and Severus (which had immediately endeared her to him) with a wrath that only an embittered ten year old can muster, and had told them in no uncertain terms that she could take care of her sister, thank you very much. It had taken some persuading, but they had eventually managed to convince her that perhaps she could do that more easily with a bit of help from them.

She had been prickly and difficult to get on with for a while, which as far as Marie could tell, just meant that she and Severus got on perfectly well, but she began to see how much they cared for her and her sister, and had started to trust them. Last summer had been the first time that the girls had come to the Chalet, and Eve had been very quiet and reserved, but as the days had passed she had opened up more and more. This year, she looked a good deal more comfortable with herself, and was already smiling at her unofficial cousins. She had just finished her first year at Hogwarts, which had the dual effect of making her a good deal more confident, and making her a source of awe and wonder to the younger children, who were already flocking towards her.

Together, they swamped them, hugging and chattering and generally making Severus feel uncomfortable – which was part of the fun. Maman came to his rescue, extricating him from the centre of the swarm, and giving him a big hug.

Papa had told her that when they had finished school, Uncle Severus had lived at the Chalet with Maman, Tatie Estelle and Tonton Henrì, before he'd moved in with Uncle Sirius. They had lived together for the better part of a year before Uncle Severus and Uncle Algernon had managed to save up for the shop in Diagon Alley – just around the corner from Uncle Peter's music shop.

Papa had sat them down when they had heard that they were gaining two more cousins, and explained to them why it was ok that they would have two daddies; it had never occurred to Marie that it shouldn't be ok, but she had nodded seriously when her Papa had asked her if she understood.

Anyway, she liked Eve; she had written from Hogwarts from time to time, and she liked the way that she'd fought for her sister. Marie liked to think that if it came to it, she'd do the same for Avril or Thèo.

Last year, Marie had asked Uncle Severus what had happened to Eve and Holly's parents – after Eve had told her what they had done to them – and he had just smiled, grimly. This, she had understood, meant 'nothing good'.

She was glad that they each had one another.

0o0o0o0

They had finished setting out the lunch things, and were engaged in that strange dance that occurs in a room full of people (predominantly children) who all need to get to the opposite side of the room, and are not entirely certain of how this can be achieved. There was a certain amount of people getting lost and going the wrong way; amid the general chaos, the fire sprang into life.

There was a general scramble away from the fireplace, as the flames turned emerald, and the madly spinning shape resolved into Uncle James, who was immediately pounced upon by Uncle Sirius. Behind him, a miniature version of him was clambering out of the fireplace, and shaking soot out of his messy black hair.

"Hello Harry!" shouted Neville, over the general chaos; Harry waved over the table.

"That was _weird_!" he said, and was immediately enveloped by Uncle Sirius. A few seconds later, Aunty Lily emerged, carrying little Gwen.

In looks, Harry and Gwen were polar opposites: Harry was the veritable carbon copy of his father – messy black hair, bad eyesight, a little on the short side – but with his mother's brilliant green eyes; Gwenny, on the other hand, had her mother's flame red hair and freckles – and her father's deep, chocolate eyes. Currently three, it was a general consensus amongst the adults that by the time she left Hogwarts, she would be breaking hearts left, right and centre.

Marie managed to fight her way through the general crush to hug Harry and Gwen, who had been put on the floor with the other little ones.

She grinned.

Her family were finally home.

0o0o0o0

It was tradition that the first night of the holiday was conducted in the Chalet, with the families moving out to the cottages the next day. This meant that the parents could all gather together on the veranda and be all grown up (or not, as the case may be) together, while the children, little monsters as they were, could generally be trusted not to get into too much trouble in their rough age groups. Marie had a strong suspicion that their parents all went down to the lake when everyone had fallen asleep, but she had never been able to stay awake long enough to check.

Tonight, Eve was in charge, and when everyone had got ready for bed – they all pitched in to help the smaller ones – she offered to read to them before they went to sleep. Or at least pretended to go to sleep.

Magnus picked the book this year, Grimm's Fairy Tales, and by the time she had finished, most people were quite sleepy.

Marie wasn't, though, and she and Aramis helped Eve and Phoebe to make sure that their youngest cousins were, at the very least, in bed. Nobody expected them to be asleep within the next three hours anyway.

Marie, Rachel, Phoebe and Eve retired to the library – a new tradition that had developed the year before. Eve pulled down the old, cloth-covered book from the top shelf; Marie, Rachel and Phoebe settled down on the floor around her.

"Which one?" Eve asked. They had read the book through, the previous summer, and they each had their favourites, though there were a few that they didn't understand. One of them, though, had been marked with a ribbon; Marie suspected that it was her mother's favourite, even though she had often said that her favourite was the one that her Papa had had inscribed on her engagement bracelet. She had often seen her reading the marked sonnet, with a small, wry smile on her face.

"The marked one," she said, firmly; Rachel and Phoebe nodded, and Eve smiled.

_Sonnet 36_

_Let me confess that we two must be twain,_

_Although our undivided loves are one._

_So shall those blots that do with me remain_

_Without thy help by me be borne alone._

_In our two loves there is but one respect,_

_Though in our lives a separable spite,_

_Which, though it alter not love's sole effect,_

_Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight._

_I may not evermore acknowledge thee,_

_Lest my bewailèd guilt should do thee shame;_

_Nor thou with public kindness honour me,_

_Unless thou take that honour from thy name._

_But do not so; I love thee in such sort_

_As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report._


End file.
